


A Series of Very Random Shorts

by Diremon



Category: League of Legends
Genre: Gen, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-02
Updated: 2017-12-26
Packaged: 2019-01-28 09:02:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 51
Words: 20,774
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12603064
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Diremon/pseuds/Diremon
Summary: A whole bunch of short stories - one for every champion in League of Legends!





	1. Aatrox

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! This is my take on NaNoWriMo - and I don't really follow the rules, and have made my own:  
> I will be writing, of course, 50,000 words during the month of November, and I will do so with a series of short stories - one for each champion of League of Legends. For each champion I must roll a D20 (20-sided die) and use the corresponding prompts to go with the number I got. This'll be fun...
> 
> ~~I will be posting daily, time permitting, and, in order to get through 138 champions by the end of November, I will need to get through at least 5 per day. Additionally, these are unedited - I wrote them, and then I posted them! The reason for this is I spent the _past_ year editing and humming and hawing over last year's NaNo, and I don't want to be doing that again for something that's meant to be quick. Enjoy, it is my unfiltered brain-barf!~~
> 
> Well, I clearly did not finish this in time for NaNo! No worries, I still intend to finish it! Who knows, since I'm not rushing, maybe we'll get higher quality out of me.
> 
> And now, the prompts:  
> 20 - They're drunk  
> 19 - Their first kill  
> 18 - A friendly encounter with ___  
> 17 - An unfriendly encounter with ___  
> 16 - Murphy's law  
> 15 - They got the thing they wanted and found out it wasn't what they wanted  
> 14 - Touched by the void  
> 13 - Showdown with their nemesis  
> 12 - Preschool AU (4 additional champs will be rolled to fill in the story)  
> 11 - "Have you met our lord and saviour-"  
> 10 - Jail  
> 09 - They wake up and find themself on Earth  
> 08 - Self-poetry  
> 07 - Their death  
> 06 - Cross-over with ___ (my friend's choice)  
> 05 - They read what you've been writing about them  
> 04 - A romantic encounter with ___  
> 03 - Shot by Cupid - I mean, Heartseeker Varus  
> 02 - I have to write what my friends want me to write.  
> 01 - Sex with random other champion
> 
> ~~I really hope I don't roll any 1s, lol.~~ I rolled a disproportionate amount of 1s. WHY.

Contempt. That was a good word to describe Aatrox at that moment. He stood proudly atop a cliffside, watching, not that any mortal could see him in that moment. It was not yet time to reveal himself. Down below, humans of two factions clashed. The defenders, wearing furs and wielding farm implements, were spread thin and were slowly being backed into an alcove along the cliff, where homes - barely more than a few tattered tents around a small fire and a pen containing only as many animals as there were fingers on Aatrox’ hand - were nestled. Their foe, however, were heavily armoured, well equipped, and numerous, though Aatrox could tell they were weary as well - save for one person. 

He had been watching the general for some time now, and had taken quite a disliking to him. At the beginning of his career, Aatrox might have approved of the young Darius. But now that he had aged, now that the success of cutting down of cowardly leaders and the re-invigorating of the soldiers he commanded had worn away, all that was left was an abusive brute whose only recipe for success was to beat down everyone and anyone else. The man fancied himself a successful general by screaming filth at his soldiers, working them to their deaths. They did not respect him; Aatrox knew they feared the general. Aatrox also knew that fear was weakness, and he knew he could prove this general for the fraud he was. How loyal will his soldiers be, against a far more worthy leader? 

Deciding now that the previous village would be the last this blood-stained man would slaughter, Aatrox leapt off the cliffside, swooping down and landing with a deafening crash amidst the battered barbarians. As both sides staggered back to gape in awe and horror, Aatrox swept his arm out in an invitation to his yet-unknowing allies. “Come, now, give it one last push, one final clash, and we shall destroy these foes,” he beckoned, and leapt towards the Noxians soldiers. They and their armour melted beneath his mighty sword, and as he slashed with great strokes, cutting down dozens, he heard the barbarians roar with new life as they charged their enemies. 

The Noxian general recovered quickly, Aatrox noticed, the shock on his face turning to rage. “Cut him down! Cut him down, you worthless tripe! Circle him, cowards!” He roared as he stepped towards the Darkin, raising his axe. So the man still had fight left in him. A circle naturally formed around the pair as the soldiers and barbarians alike had no desire to come anywhere near the fearsome Aatrox. He could end this, here and now. But where was the fun in that? Instead he toyed with the furious general, circling with him as the two warriors tested each other, playing a careful dance around the other. 

The general proved quite formidable. Aatrox had underestimated the man’s prowess in battle, but no matter how many scratches he had landed over the course of the fight, nearly an hour long, Aatrox would return the blows. He could see Darius panting heavily now, the mortal man exhausted after dueling so long. Seeing a moment when Darius’ grip on his axe went lax ever so slightly, Aatrox leapt at him - and was immediately was sent flying as the handle connected with his gut. Landing clumsily, he had to jump back before the axe landed where his neck had been half a second earlier. No more toying with him, then. Regaining his stance, Aatrox narrowed his eyes at the general, and in that moment, Darius knew he was dead, for he returned the glare with a scream and a charge. 

One last heavy clash ensued. The dust settled, revealing a dead general cleaved in half at the waist, and the fearsome monster he had been fighting had vanished. The Noxian soldiers, terrified and leaderless, scattered, the ones remaining easily crushed by their former prey.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First chapter! For Aatrox, I rolled a 17, an unfriendly encounter with... and I rolled Darius. A very interesting prompt, and I am pretty sure I did not do it justice!


	2. Ahri

Ahri had finally found more of them. The first human, the hunter, his life essence had been so very delicious and she had been craving more ever since. His companions had died to their foes days before she could find them, and she had found herself wandering the forests, looking for more of the humans. Now she had found a settlement, a place with a lot of them. Before, she had always avoided these places, knowing the creatures of the forest were rarely welcome here. But now, she had a reason to be here. 

The fox had tried to approach during the day, but she had found that the humans did not appreciate their friend being entranced with strange magics, and had thrown rocks and chased her off with sharp metal sticks. So now that the moon was high in the sky, she returned, creeping towards one of the mud structures they slept in. Slipping in through the window, she found sprawled on the ground, covered in light blankets, two adults and their two young. Crouching over the male, she drew from the magic around to focus on soothing him, to keep him from trying to escape as she began to suck in his life essence, relishing in the memories that flooded her mind: His first takedown of a deer and how elated he was, the sorrow of losing his father, the rosy joy of marrying his beloved - the woman who lay beside him - their first child, and their second. 

As the memories slowed to a stop, she saw his head flop listlessly to the side, the life fading from his eyes and his once-vibrant pulse coming to an end. Feeling so alive and wanting even more, she turned to the sleeping woman.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I rolled a 19 - their first kill. Ahri's not some sort of friendly fox lady, folks.


	3. Akali

The trio were nearly ready lie down and accept death in the cold, miserable rainforest when they finally cut through one last cascade of foliage to see a path and buildings in the distant. Three weeks they had been wandering in the mountainside, lost, since that bad encounter with Zed’s minions.

If Akali had been any duller, she would have given a whoop, but none of them were stupid; whether this town was friendly or not still had yet to be determined. With her and Kennen staying in the bushes, Shen silently walked onto the path and made his slow way to the town, approaching a guard, who was asleep in his chair and snoring lightly. The sight of such an unconcerned person made them relax a bit. “Hello,” Shen spoke softly, waking the guard by shaking him on the shoulder. The man awoke with a start. “Huh? Woah, you crept up on me! Oh nevermind, I was asleep, weren’t I?”

“Yes, you were,” Shen stated. “Is there anywhere I can stay for the night? I’ve been travelling for some time now.”

“Oh, for sure! Ol’ Renasha keeps the tavern over yonder,” the guard indicated a larger building. “Just mind the weapons. We don’t want no trouble.”

Now Akali gave a whoop, jumping out of the bushes and startling the guard. Shen glanced back at her as Kennen now strode out behind her. “Oh, and I have these two with me, too,” he finished, a hint of exasperation in his voice.

Entering the tavern, the three were met with a surprising amount of activity for such a small town. Each table had a couple patrons, and the noise was a welcome change from the lonely wilds outside.

Approaching the bar, all three eyed the roast on the spit behind the barkeeper. “How much for a bite to eat?” Shen asked the woman.

“Forget the food, I need a drink,” Akali grumbled.

“That’d be a copper each for food, and two coppers for drinks,” the woman replied as she began to fill three plates before pouring Akali a generous mug of amber liquid. Taking a sip, Akali let out a relieved sigh. The beer was good.

It had been four, maybe five beers. Akali couldn’t actually remember, but the whole world was just a little bit more wobbly than normal. However, there was that one guy, two tables down, who had been glancing at her every so often, and he was giving her that look, and boy, did it grind her gears. Now, she had decided, would be the time for payback. She wasn’t quite sure just what that meant, but she knew it was a good idea. Getting up, she sauntered over there to- the nerve of these guys, all being in the way! Sure, they were just sitting there, in their chairs, but why’d there have to be so many? “Geddauttamy way!” she shouted, “I’m gonna turn that dang butterfly over there into a caterpillar!” Confused faces all around, but no one moved.

Letting out a frustrated roar, she attempted to jump over the louts, but found that her arm would not follow. Looking back, she winced as she saw the unimpressed face of Shen. “I think you’ve had enough to drink. Let’s go to our beds, before you cost us a place to stay.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My first nat 20, in which I discover I have no idea how to write drunk people. Probably has something to do with never having been drunk myself.


	4. Alistar

This was going to be one of those days. First, the little blanket that was his only protection from the cold, had snagged on a horn, and ripped as he struggled to get up, not realizing its precarious position. Next, he had accidentally dropped his only mug on the single stone in the whole clearing, smashing it. He sighed as he drank his tea from the kettle - and scorched his tongue! Jumping up and stomping in frustration, it took all his will to not shout a curse to the skies. He still had to be quiet, who knew what was lurking in these woods.

When he had escaped the evil clutches of Noxus years ago, Alistar had decided he would take a stand, and speak out against the oppressive empire. But as he had gained traction in the outlying regions, the wicked Noxians put an end to his efforts, chasing him away from the people he had allied with, and labeling him a criminal, an extremist, a traitor. Unfortunately, their propaganda had won out in the end, and he had been forced into hiding now.

So, wary of any Noxian ears, he held quiet even as he wanted to curse this beautiful morning. But, even thinking that thought, he noticed now the clouds rolling in and - yep, it started raining. This was most definitely going to be one of those days.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah, Murphy's Law. I like writing non-stop disasters.  
> Some of these are going to be very short because, well, to get to 50,000 words, I only need 363 words per champion, so in the interest of actually getting this done, some of these will only be as long as they need to be, or I will be writing forever.


	5. Amumu

Amumu wished it were the first day of preschool again. That way, everyone would not know everyone else, and they could all try to make friends with each other again. Then, maybe, someone would make friends with him-

His thoughts were interrupted by the teacher. He still didn’t understand her, she spoke kind of funny, mostly in whistles and clicks. It took him a long time to realize her name was Rek’Sai. But she was saying something to the class, so he had to pay attention. When the others erupted into a cheer, he realized she had just announced it was playtime. He quickly raised his arms up and made what he hoped was a whoop to join in with the others, hoping someone would notice him acting like them and liking him. No one glanced at him as they all dashed for the door, so he followed, willing the tears that were welling up in his eyes to go away.

Outside in the play yard, the other children quickly formed into their little groups and circles, playing with just their friends. Amumu slowed his pace to a stop, and nearly jumped out of his skin when Rek’Sai tapped him on the shoulder. “Go play, no going inside yet,” she croaked quietly to him, taking care to make sure he understood her. He nodded, realizing he had lingered at the door.

Taking a step into the sunlight, he looked around. All the toys and every piece of the playground were being used. But, he supposed, he did like to swing, so he slowly approached the group that were using the swingset. There were three of them: Tristana, Vi, and Orianna. Tristana and Orianna were both on the swing, being acrobats as they tried to balance, while Vi, the biggest kid in the whole class, pushed them, all three giggling and laughing.

“H-ha ha, that looks fun. C-can I try?” Amumu asked shyly as he clung to the swingset pole. They continued playing, not even glancing his way. He waited awkwardly for what seemed like forever before he got the courage to turn away.

“Oh! Amumu! I didn’t see you there, you were so quiet!” This was Orianna’s voice, and Amumu spun around again. Orianna smiled at him. “Did you want a turn?” she asked. Smiling back with a huge grin, and with more tears threatening to spring from his eyes, he nodded.

Vi even pushed for him! Amumu was sure this was the best day of his life. When he came back inside after playtime was over, he was beaming with joy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Most of these are going to follow canon to the best of my ability with the more absurd prompts. The ones that are literally AUs, however, aren't. This is the preschool AU prompt, so everyone's a little toddler, with a few exceptions such as Rek'Sai here.


	6. Anivia

They finally lay, frozen in the ice and snow, defeated. The evil Lissandra, and all her allies, were gone. If a spirit could breathe, Anivia would have given a breath of relief. The bloodshed had been great, far greater than she would have ever wanted to see in her lands. But it had been necessary; in order to keep the ice witch from spreading the corrupted blackfrost, that witch needed to die. But now, Anivia’s allies stood, victorious. The fight had been a long one. A blink of the eye in her vast lifespan, but to the humans, it had gone on for several generations. No longer was her old friend, Ashe, the queen of the Avarosan; her great-granddaughter now held her enchanted bow. Anivia smiled at the young woman, before taking flight and retreating to the mountaintops to watch over her domain again.

One year later, exactly, Anivia felt an evil stirring. Alarmed, she flew in search of the source, and found herself back on that final battleground. Not a single thing moved - there was nothing but deep snow. Landing, she slowly stalked to the centerpoint, the source of the disturbance. Red streaks could be seen from a glowing red orb in the snow, and the red was quickly spreading, bursting here and there like cracks in ice. Alarmed, Anivia tried to take flight again, but noticed she had been too slow - the strange red energy had reached her icy claws.

She was infected. A flood of memories that were not her own entered her mind - of pain, of war, of death. The annihilation was not the answer. The annihilation was not the answer.

 

W̟̞̲̹͉͓͒ͬ̋̍ͨͬeͩ͋̐̂̅̿҉̱̦͍ ̝͙͆͞s̡̻͔̹̹̹̦͇͌ͤ̌ḧ͎̣̭͂̉ͧͯͨ̒ã̸̩̲̦l̺ͭ͋̃͠l̗̟̰̳͕̍͞ ͉̣͈̫̲̜ͪͯȓ̹͉̺͆͐͘į̦͕͓̺̤̳͕s̜͙̣̟͇̭͊e̸̫̍̍ ̞̥ͥ̿̐ͯa̹̘̘ͧ͒͛ͣͨͮͅg̝͖̻̝̗̥̊͛ͅă̳͚̘̮̲͎͙̊͝i̞͚̱̰͈ͧ͘n͈͔̣̬͖̘͂ͫ̽̉̎͒ͅ.̷̫͎ͦ̂̓̆ͫ͗

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> She got what she wanted - peace in Freljord. But at what cost?  
> Wow, I am a terrible writer.


	7. Ashe

It had been far too many hours since Ashe had stopped moving. In the wee hours of the morning, she had risen from her bed, leaving her snoring husband to his dreaming, to embark on her morning walk of the perimeter around the encampment, checking to make sure everything was in order, as she usually did. What was unusual during this morning’s routine, however, was the knife whistling through the air, and lodging itself into the tree trunk where her head had been barely half a second earlier - one did not survive in the Freljord by being slow.

Unable to bolt back to camp, for the assailant had placed themselves between her and her escape route back to safety, and quickly discovering her enemy was a hard target to hit, she had only one option, and that had been to run away from her attacker - and away from her friends. She had tried multiple times to change direction, to loop back in the hopes that Tryndamere might have set the others out searching for her, but each attempt was thwarted by the pursuing threat.

Now, she was very far from anywhere safe, and running quickly out of energy. Notching another arrow to her enchanted bow as she ran, she glanced around to see if she could spot the bitch - every once in awhile she could catch a glimpse of brilliant red - and fired off the arrow when she heard rustling in the leaves above her. A dull thud told her she hit wood, so she did her best to double her speed to make up for the lost distance…

Another whistling knife through the air, and this time she could not jump out of the way fast enough before it hit her thigh. Landing heavily, she attempted to draw her bow one last time as she rolled around to face her attacker, but the woman, already standing over her, snatched it out of her hands. “Pretty bow, I think I’ll keep it,” the redhead sneered, a very thick Noxian accent flavouring her speech. The assassin now drew one of the long, wicked knives on her back, and swung it with merciless power into Ashe’s unprotected chest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I did actually roll a dice to see what sort of death she'd succumb to, and then to whom she would fall, and got "Noxian assassin".


	8. Annie

It was playtime, Annie’s favourite time of the day! Strolling out into the yard, she hugged Tibbers, her bear as she deliberated where she wanted to go. The slide! Giggling, she ran for it, but three others had the same thought: Ekko, Zed, and, most obnoxiously, Draven. As diplomatic toddlers, they all mutually decided to settle the dispute of who could use the slide by the agreement of taking turns. First, it was Draven’s turn. Then, it was… Draven’s turn? As soon as he had cleared the slide, he ran back to the ladder, knocking Zed off of it, who was next in line. Zed began to cry. Annie was angry.

“We made an agweement, Dwaven!” Annie fumed, balling her hands into little fists.

“But it’s my turn!” Draven retorted.

“No, it’s not! You just had a tuwrn! It’s Zed’s tuwrn now!”

“Uh, guys, the te-” Ekko tried to interrupt, but Annie placed a firm hand on his mouth while glaring at Draven. Zed continued crying. Draven stuck out his tongue at her and turned around to climb the ladder again. Furious, Annie glared even harder. Draven’s shirt began to smolder…

“Oh dear, what happened here?” The teacher, or rather, the substitute teacher, Azir, picked up Zed. “Now, now, let’s tuck away those tears. If you all want to use the slide, you must take turns! No fighting!”

“But that’s what we were doing, until stupid Dwaven ruined it!” Annie protested.

Draven, instead of responding, also began to cry. “Ow… burning… ow… my back…” His cry got louder and louder until he was screaming so loud the whole playground stopped to stare. His shirt burst into flames, and Annie quickly covered her mouth to stifle her laugh. Azir, however, knew, and as he patted out the flames and picked Draven up in his other arm, he turned a stare so stern it could still a windstorm, and Annie knew then that playtime was definitely over for her.

“Inside, now, on the time-out chair,” Azir ordered her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hecked up and missed Annie entirely last night. Never fear, she is here! Also, another preschool AU roll, in case you couldn't tell.


	9. Aurelion Sol

Flying in the skies above Runeterra, and sincerely wishing he could burn it into a smoldering rock to be forgotten for all eternity, Aurelion Sol had no choice but to home in on a loathful place: Targon. Perhaps he would flatten that arrogant pillar of stone instead. Just as he was nearing it, before the puny little man with the spear that stood atop it could speak, something hit Aurelion Sol on the arm. A tiny little sting, so small he could not see what caused it. But, feeling… somehow more alive, he glanced around, and spotted something that thought it could hide, and without hesitation he turned and dived towards it, bunching himself up to be smaller so as not to totally engulf the entire area his tiny new friend resided in. (He totally engulfed the entire area anyway.)

“Greetings, marvellous little creature! Behold, I am Aurelion Sol, magnificent creator of the stars!” he boomed out enthusiastically. The little fluffball didn’t move, still thinking itself to be hidden, so with a massive claw, he scooped it up. It squeaked in alarm and tried to scurry away, so he cupped his claws to hold it inside. “Now, now, there is no need to be afraid, for I am in a most jovial mood. Come on now, what is your name, little creature?”

“T-T-Teemo,” it squeaked, “I am Teemo, please put me down!”

“Fascinating! Truly splendid! A name that shall be remembered for all eternity! Yes, you are a fine creature!”

“I… I… well, thank you, but… why?”

“Because… oh, I… don’t actually know why.” Regaining his senses, Aurelion Sol dropped the little furball named Teemo, and watched it scramble back into the bushes. “Hmph, now that is interesting.” He glanced around, and sensing the magic, the tiny traces of it left on his arm, he let out a roaring laugh as he picked himself up and took to the skies again. He could now hear the Pantheon, furious, yelling and barking orders at him. Oh, they are so weak, that a trickster could override their magical grasp on him, even temporarily! Soon, he will be free.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...I rolled a 3, shot by Cupid, and then, of all the champions I could have rolled for who Sol becomes infatuated with, I rolled Teemo himself...  
>  My friend laughed very loudly when I revealed what the roll was.


	10. Azir

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **WARNING: THIS CHAPTER IS EXPLICIT**  
>  (I rolled a Nat 1.)

The ship gently coming to a rest against the lonely beach, Azir observed the dreary, dark land from the deck. For the moment, he had no desire to step foot on ground - everything about this island, this chain of island, reeked of cursed magic and undeath. And so it should, the once-beautiful Blessed Isles, as he had known them so long ago, were very aptly renamed the Shadow Isles. Still, though, if he were to uncover the ancient secrets of the blessed waters, a magic he himself only had rudimentary skill in, he had to investigate them. Perhaps somewhere they still existed, untainted.

Sighing, he gave the order to his men, “lower the gangplank.” They did not hesitate, for they were his mindless sand golems. It had been a good idea to bring only these faithful minions. He would not be able to coax any human to step foot onto that shore, considering he himself was so very reluctant. But, he must do it if he wanted answers.

As he walked on the gankplank, before he could get half-way down, he heard a voice shout in a tongue he did not yet recognise. These new languages! But who still living was here? The answer revealed himself quickly, a strange man with shadows for a cape, and a shiny vial that hung from his neck. Surprised, Azir stood taller, and began to march down to meet him, but the man waved his arms wildly, shaking his head. Though his words hesitant, as if he could not speak them well, his tone was urgent, and warning. Azir tried to answer in the language that was geographically closest to this place that he knew of - Demacian - and the man seemed to recognize his attempts, and made some hums and haws. It was then that Azir realized they were both trying to communicate with languages they were not familiar. He may as well just speak Shuriman - the dialect that he knew, anyway. In modern day, it had diverged quite a bit. And he did just that. The man, thoroughly surprised, actually responded, speaking his ancient tongue, although stumbling a bit. “Here… you… why?”

“I seek knowledge, about the healing water!”

The man looked horrified at this. “No! The last one, he take, he destroy.” Clutching his vial now, he backed away from the ship, turning away.  
“Wait! I just want to see it, I do not wish to tamper with it!”

The man was suspicious, but stayed. After finally stepping foot onto the sand, sorting out just what it was that Azir wanted, and learning the man’s name - Yorick - they had come to an impasse as the man requested a trade, but Azir possessed nothing he was interested in. Azir had contemplated overpowering the man with his sand soldiers, but Yorick seemed to have little friends of his own, skulking and crawling in the shadows. Finally, Yorick spoke up. “Blow me.”

Azir was stunned, and wondering if perhaps Yorick had misunderstood his own words, mistaking them to mean something else. “Pardon me?” He asked. In response, Yorick pointed towards his groin, and repeated, “Blow me, then see vial. See but do not touch.”

Azir nearly scoffed in utter indignation. Did this fool not know who he was? But no, of course he, a man stranded on a dead island, wouldn’t know who Azir, emperor of an empire long forgotten, was. And he wouldn’t care, either. Clicking his tongue against the roof of his mouth, he narrowed his eyes. “Ugh, fine. You have a deal...” And what a steal that deal was. A blowjob by an emperor. Who would have thought it...

Yorick smiled, and pulled down his pants. Azir could not help the grimace at the sight of Yorick’s groin. Hygiene wasn’t very high on his list, evidently. Getting onto his knees, he resisted the urge to turn away as Yorick shoved his groin into Azir’s face. Gingerly taking the penis - thankfully short, so short it might not even reach the back of his mouth, he closed his mouth over it gently, using his tongue to caress it. Yorick gave a sigh as the disgusting thing hardened, and, so very repulsed during every single second, Azir kept up his work until finally a horrific, salty goo flooded into his mouth. Done and tolerating enough, Azir quickly pulled away and spat out the contents of his mouth, willing himself to not also lose the contents of his stomach. Yorick, looking satisfied, pulled up his pants.

After taking a minute to regain his composure, Azir turned back to the foul man. Yorick offered the vial, holding out as far as the chain draping it around his neck allowed. Eager to get his end of the awful bargain, Azir studied the magic around the vial. It was difficult, not be able to touch it, but to say he did not learn anything would be to lie, and as satisfied as he could be with the new knowledge, he turned away and boarded his ship again to leave that man on his forsaken island. Of all the things that would haunt Azir from this island for the rest of his life, he was sure it would be that taste.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...I rolled a Nat 1... and got Yorick... my brain...  
>  I also rolled for dick size, and got another Nat 1. Poor Yorick.
> 
> Confession: I have no idea how a blowjob works and I hated every second of this. My friend's helpful contribution to my agony:
> 
> AND THEN AZIR PUT HIS THINGY IN YORICK'S YOU-KNOW-WHAT AND THEY DID IT KEENLY AGAINST A TREE  
> "WHAT ARE YOU DOING YOU MOTHERFUCKERS"  
> IT WAS... ZILEAN


	11. Bard

Drifting quickly through dimensions to reach the tearing Bard could sense, the spirit arrived in one where everything was angular and sharp, with more colours than there were universes. Bard examined the hole, the reason he was here.

Though Bard traveled through many dimensions, there was one that Bard never traveled through before, and, as long as it was permitted, the spirit would never travel in for the rest of infinity. Technically, it didn’t exist, but where something didn’t exist, something else did, for something always existed everywhere, at every point in time. No part of infinity was empty.

And this tearing in the fabric of this dimension. It was coming from that dimension that was not supposed to exist. Even now, the hole was quickly expanding, revealing the void beneath it as something attempted to make it bigger. Whatever that something was, Bard knew, and yet did not know, and did not ever want to know. Instead, Bard focused on what he did know: That this hole needed to be closed, to be repaired so that it might never open again. Summoning his great power, he set to work, but for every stitch he sewed, the hole ripped even bigger, until it was the only thing that existed in this dimension. It had been consumed. Alarmed, Bard opened a portal to leave the lost dimension, but Bard was no more.

Bard still existed, and yet didn’t. But Bard opened the portal anyway. Bard opened many portals. That was Bard’s task, that was Bard’s power. And so, Bard opened the floodgates for the void, and it consumed everything Bard touched.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Touched by the void. I could probably have done a better job with this if I weren't trying to crank these out at a ridiculous rate, but my brain was hurting trying to think about infinity.


	12. Blitzcrank

Chaos. All around the robot, humans screamed, fleeing in the opposite direction of his path. His path, of course, was directly towards the cause of the commotion - a burning, exploding building that had spread its fire onto others, alighting a large section of the Sump. The old wreckage had stored crates upon crates of chemicals, materials, and other such unknowns, and finally the roof had collapsed, smashing many of these crates and setting off a chain reaction of fiery death.

Blitzcrank knew, however, that the death was not for him, as he was not made of flesh and bone, easily burned. Therefore, he decided it was his duty to approach the area and look for survivors. The first building he checked in, he could hear a desperate yapping. Lifting a crumpled bed to locate the sound, he found a battered, terrified dog, and tried to pick it up, for there were no humans in this building and therefore they must have escaped, and probably still loved this dog. But the dog, scared witless, jumped back into the wall, which then swayed and threatened to topped. Quickly, Blitzcrank moved a giant hand to steady it, but misjudged the distance in the smoke, smashing through it and causing it to fall anyway. A yip and then silence, Blitzcrank stared in horror at the broken, dead body of the dog.

Unable to do anything more for it, Blitzcrank moved on to the next house. In this one, a mother holding a baby and huddled in a corner gave a gasping cry of relief upon seeing him. She was in poor condition, coughing and wheezing, terribly burned and her leg was badly broken, so he carefully picked her up and then, as quickly as he could without rocking her too badly, he marched to the safer areas in search of a medic.

However, even as he moved, his sensors informed him that the baby was already gone, and the mother’s breathing was becoming increasingly laboured. By the time he had spotted a tent set up for the medics who had responded to the disaster, she too had passed. Saddened, he could only place her and her baby down gently. According to some of the humans, they were in a better place now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Damn you, Murphy's Law!


	13. Brand

Stripped of his most recent body, of his most recent host, in a nasty fight with a dragon, the spirit called Brand drifted in the winds in search of a new one. A desperate battle below attracted his attention, and drifting towards the scene, he observed. All around, many humans flailed their mundane weapons at monstrous, strange beings. A good number stood on the outskirts, and Brand could sense the magic that they spewed, both weak and strong. It was all aimed at the center, where a single human stood - or rather, floated. This being had power in him, strange and otherworldly, and beneath him a chasm was open, purple and pulsing, as monsters spewed forth from it. Great power that was of the same flavour as what the man had, emanated from this corrosion in the fabric of reality.

Fascinated, Brand drifted forward, wanting this power for himself. Allowing his crackling flames to mingle with the wisps of purple magic, he only watched with extreme interest as it slowly spread throughout him, turning his flame purple. The humans had finally noticed him, with the mundane and the mages quickly turning tail at the thought of a newcomer tipping the scales even further away from them. Feeling the vastness of eternal nothingness, he let out a laugh as he lit the nearest object he could on fire - the infected man still hovering. Though that one had survived the onslaught of the other mages, he realized this spirit was much stronger, and he too ran, closing the portal that could not sustain itself without his help. But it was too late; Brand was thoroughly eaten by the void, and in his place was an even greater monster of crackling purple flame, lighting the whole hillsides on fire. Every living thing was annihilated. Dirt, sand, stone, it all melted beneath its gaze. It had become unstoppable.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm loving the touched by the void prompt, but I'm also doing terrible with it. xD


	14. Braum

“Did Braum ever fail, grandma?”

Three small children were gathered around the fireplace, as their grandmother sat in a rocking chair. Taking a sip of her tea, she mused. “Yes, even mighty Braum has his bad days.”

“A child had gone missing in the coniferous forests surrounding her village. Braum, hearing of her grieving parents, set out to find her. For three days and three nights, he searched, until he came upon a pond, so still it was a perfect mirror. Not a single thing stirred here, not a single sound. In the center of the pond was a tiny island, with barely enough room for the white-robed girl perched upon it. Braum could see that she matched the missing child’s description perfectly. Braum called to the little girl, but she would not respond. So, Braum stepped into the pool and began to wade towards the island.

But, of course, one does not disturb an undisturbed pool of water deep in the woods. There are strange things there, you see? Braum quickly found this out, as the ripples slowly grew to colossal waves, and he found that he was struggling to stay afloat in the tossing, turning waters, much less reach the little girl. For every inch he moved forward, the waters became worse, until he realized that he could not save the little girl, for he had to save himself.

And so, with great effort, he turned back to the shore, but the waters became worse and worse. At several points, he was struggling to keep his head above water, and he very nearly drowned. But he survived, and coughing on the shoreline, he looked back, to see the little girl - but she was not dressed in white, nor was she still alive. For you see, it was all a trick.

The missing girl, in fact, had found this very pool, but unlike mighty Braum, she did not have the strength to escape its terrible curse, and had died. Now her ghost haunts the little island from which she cannot leave. Braum was too late, and he very nearly lost his own life in the process.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Murphy's Law. I have rolled 16 so many times...


	15. Caitlyn

How many years had it been? Too many. Vi had teased her about holding a grudge, but Caitlyn was not about to give up on the hunt for C. She was close, and she knew it. Soon, the man would be held responsible.

Now, she was camped out in the middle of the night on the rooftops of the Pearl district, watching the empty road below. In her sights was a metals dealer’s shop, and she watched it like a hawk. According to the information she had pieced together like the most intricate puzzle she had ever imagined, C would be needing a specific, rare precious metal for his schemes, and this was the only place in Piltover that carried it, for an exorbitant price Caitlyn was sure C could not afford, or at the very least, would be unwilling to pay.

And, just like clockwork, a heavily dressed person was now walking along the street, a conspicuous figure at this time of night, if anyone were around to see him. Of course, Caitlyn knew, he had no idea he was being watched right now. And, sure enough, he stopped at the door of the shop, and was fiddling with the lock. How he planned on dealing with the alarms inside the shop, Caitlyn didn’t care to know, for this was as far as she would let him get. Loading up the dart gun - for she couldn’t just bloody well shoot his head off with her rifle; his crimes still did not warrant death - she took careful aim, and fired.

In that exact moment, as bad luck would have it, the man shifted just enough to cause the dart to miss, and hearing the sharp thwap as it thudded into the wooden door, he spun around, instantly alert. But Caitlyn was no longer on the rooftop, and was already moving down the back side of the building, running around it and prepping her net as her back-up plan. She had about four of those. The man, C, she was sure he really was C, had begun to run back the way he came, and found his path cut off by her approach.

“D-damn, you sure wait a long time!”

“Of course. Justice will find a way.”

She fired the net, but he scrambled to the side, and took off down an alleyway. As she watched, he, infuriatingly, vaulted himself over some crates instead of running along the ground next to them, where a bear trap had been placed. Caitlyn knew she could not outrun the man, and unfortunately still did not know where he would be fleeing to, but she had to take the small victory she had gained: She now had a description.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Arch-nemesis time! Wish I knew more about this mysterious C.


	16. Camille

Everything was going according to plan. Except for the part where the window had most definitely not been unlocked, meaning somewhere a servant had pocketed his pay without work, an alarm had been set off, the dogs found her trail and nearly found her, and, earlier in the day, her maid had not done the coffee right. But, other than that, everything was going according to plan. She was inside the vault, after all. Now all that remained was finding the blueprints she sought to destroy. Unfortunately, the owner of the vault, a twitchy, highly paranoid old man named Percival Spinner, had it organized in quite a nonsensical fashion, as if to baffle anyone who entered other than he, if he even knew where everything was himself.

That… was fine. She had all day, all night, and all however long it took her to go through the place, as long as no one entered the vault before she could make herself scarce. It was an advantage to having such a highly-modified body - not needing inputs in such large quantities as frequently. She had already been digging through the massive number of filing cabinets all filled papers for several hours, to no avail, when the vault door’s mechanisms began to turn. Quickly tucking away the papers she had been shuffling through, she climbed to the top of the vault, hiding above the lights. Their glare should help conceal her, if whoever would enter would even look up.

“Utter ridiculousness! That you would know a window was smashed and the dogs had detected an intruder, and you would not check the vault!” Spinner walked in, his cane sharply rapping the ground with each step. His guards followed behind him.

“I-I am sorry, sir, but we are positive no one got in here. Whoever they were, they were scared off by the dogs!”

“No one got in here, eh? Then what do you suppose this is?” Spinner had bent low, wiping the dust on the floor, and showed the collected dust on his finger. The head guard gave him a look of incredulousness before quickly masking it. “I don’t know, it is dust?”

“Yes! Disturbed dust! Someone has been in here! Spread around, look around!” Quickly, Spinner marched to the entrance and stood there, watching the three guards as they each walked down the halls, obviously devoid of any other persons.

Camille, however, was in a precarious position. The light fixtures were weak, and she needed to shift from fixture to fixture frequently as each one slowly cracked and creaked underneath her weight, and she had run out of fresh ones, and now was forced to attempt to shift to one she had moved to before, before the one she currently perched on fell apart beneath her feet.

Unfortunately, both of them snapped with an explosion, and she came crashing down to the floor, landing face first.Quickly she got up as the guards surrounded her, and her sensors informed her that her nose was broken. Great. Mr. Spinner was now screaming in anger and fear, and Camille knew she had to act quickly, having been caught red-handed. A swift kick, and the guard coming behind her fell before she launched herself at the next, stabbing him through the gut with her leg. She gave a disgusted grimace as she ripped the blade-leg out of him, before rappelling over the head of the third, kicking him in the face. Now all that remained was Spinner. With five swift bounds, she was on the caned man before he could escape, but his screaming had alerted the rest of the guards and she could hear them scrambling throughout the building.

Excellent, perfect. This is just what I needed. Four murders, which weren’t supposed to have happened at all. Camille knew she was done here, and before anyone else could spot her, she smashed through a window and vanished into the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yet another 16, Murphy's Law. Pilties bore me to tears. It seems the ones I have the most trouble writing, end up being the ones I write the most about.


	17. Cassiopeia

Cassiopeia could not help the tears streaming down her face as she sobbed. Taking money from the family vault, she had carefully travelled south, staying hidden in all the places that might not take well to a lamia. Which was nearly all of them. Her goal had been to reach Shurima. She had to try to get this curse removed; as awesome as the new power was, its glory and novelty had worn off, and she wanted her old life back, she wanted to be able to face her sister again, as a human, and not worry what she might think. Would Katarina have accepted her in this new body? She didn’t want to find out, lest she find the answer to be ‘no’.

Knowing the source of the curse had been in the desert, during that ill-fated spelunking trip, she figured that returning to the place, perhaps paying Sivir (or her grave) off and issuing an apology, she might make amends and maybe, just maybe, that might be enough to undo the curse. Even thinking it, she knew it sounded stupid, but she had to try. She had done extensive research, and found that there was a tiny chance of it working.

But her plans had fallen apart in Piltover. Thanks to the warring between her own nation and, oddly, Shurima, despite it not having any sort of military - it was just a bunch of nomads, wasn’t it? - ships rarely travelled across the sea connecting the land masses anymore, and her best option had been to travel through Piltover, a much more expensive trip than she originally anticipated, and she had run out of money. At her wit’s end, she had slunk into the depths beneath Piltover - Zaun, they called it - and now, curled up between two ramshackle huts, she did her best to pull herself together, to regain control and keep moving forward.

“Are you in need of assistance?”

Nearly jumping out of her skin, Cassiopeia spun around to come face to face with a robot. Warily, she replied, “no, I am just fine, thank you.”

“Do not be alarmed, I am friendly,” the robot stated in the same monotone, “I am Blitzcrank and I am here to offer assistance to anyone needing it.”

Cassiopeia considered. “Well, I could really use a nice, long hug,” she finally sighed. “Been too long since anyone’s cared to be near me, thank you.”

“Certainly,” Blitzcrank obliged, stepping forward and wrapping two massive, metallic hands around her. It was an awkward embrace, but Cassiopeia draped herself onto the robot, resting her head on its shoulder. After a minute, she gave a much more calm sigh. “Thank you very much, I think that was exactly what I needed.” Yes, a non-assuming robot that did not know to fear a monster was, indeed, exactly what she needed in that moment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I rolled a 4, romantic encounter, and randomly got Blitzcrank... but Blitzcrank is a robot... I tried to make it work.


	18. Cho'Gath

Mating time. The broodmother was certainly being a flirt with him. Cho’Gath, of slightly better intelligence, was capable to wonder at what their offspring could be. All voidborn were of the same, even as they were vastly different, and two different being could create creatures completely new. It was how the void continued to adapt and evolve. His flirt, Rek’Sai, however, was only interested in the survival and growth of her young.

And so, Cho’Gath entertained Rek’Sai’s advances, which consisted entirely of chomping on a limb and dragging him towards her nest, switched up with headbutting him from behind to push him forward. Peering inside the hole that was her nest, it was vast and deep, and filled with millions of eggs. Not yet fertilized, for they were soft and easily torn if one wished to do so (and incur the wrath of their attentive mother), instead of tough and chitinous, and growing. Cho’Gath knew he had some work ahead of him. Carefully clawing his way around with much guidance from Rek’Sai as she scuttled ahead, clinging to the roof and placing a claw to show him where he should put his, he drooled and oozed a red-pink substance as Rek’Sai clicked and purred happily.

When the task was done, enough time had finally passed that the first eggs had begun to hatch, as Rek’Sai excitedly curled around them, carefully inspecting the twitching, rippling shells. Cho’Gath quietly watched as the firstborn crawled out, Rek’Sai nudging it around and consuming its shell. Many-limbed and heavily armored, it scuttled around on Rek’Sai’s back, before instinctively moving to the nearest lesion in the fabric that connected the void to other universes. Yes, these would be successful, Cho’Gath concluded.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I rolled a 4, and proceeded to ask my friends what they wanted me to write. I got these for responses:  
> Ginny - Cho'Gath goes to a buffet  
> Nolan - Gentleman Cho's tea party  
> scores - chogath x reksai  
> Mental - "To me, Cho'Gath seems like a shop owner. Can you just imagine him behind a counter?"
> 
> And of course I rolled a 3. _Of course._


	19. Corki

It had been far too long since Corki had been given a mission. Well, he hadn’t really been given a mission, so much as taken one. Well, that wasn’t quite accurate, either. What had really happened was that he had overheard the humans speaking of their woes in their tiny little town nestled deep in the forests of Demacia’s outskirts. According to rumor, a pack of werewolves had been prowling the area, and had dragged off several people now, killing them in the night. And tonight, another full moon was to fall, so the whole town was gripped in icy cold terror.

Therefore, Corki had taken the logical course of action for any Yordle with a copter would take: Hunt the werewolves. It had been difficult, over the noise of his mode of travel of choice, but his sharp Yordle ears could just barely make out their howls and laughter in the night. It was almost as if the werewolves wanted to be found. Coming upon a clearing, Corki could see the lanky, shaggy forms as they surrounded - oh dear, a human was in the middle of them, attempting to fight them! Quickly he dove with his chopper, setting off a phosphorescent bomb to hopefully blind them, and they scattered away as he swooped low, now firing a hextech missile at the one that had not fully backed away from the woman. Another missile made contact with a second werewolf. Now able to fully see the woman, he was surprised to see her looking quite fine, and perfectly at ease. She raised an eyebrow at him before firing her crossbow, burying a bolt into the throat of another werewolf. It was then that he realized she was well-equipped, having silver bolts, and knew perfectly the mess she had gotten herself into.

The werewolves had now regrouped, and charged. A second phosphorescent bomb helped stagger them a bit, as the woman took advantage of their confusion, raining silver death on the hapless monsters. An intense five minutes later of him swooping in with bullets, and the woman performing feats he would not have attributed to a human, the werewolves were all dead. Powering down the copter, Corki stepped out to greet the woman. “Well, that was a nice bit of work. Name’s Corki, what about you?”

“Vayne, Shauna Vayne. Thanks for the help. If you liked that, I could use your assistance with a hag coven just north of here, too,” the woman smiled.  
“It’d be my pleasure!” Corki returned the smile to his new friend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay, friendly encounter! Also, Corki has next to no canon lore.


	20. Darius

Today was special teacher day. Darius was excited - the last special teacher had been a clown who did funny magic tricks. Well, they were funny because they scared Draven, which Darius always found funny. And then he found it sad, because he didn’t like seeing Draven cry, like that time Annie had lit his shirt on fire…

The special teacher walked in with a large box - and he was decidedly shorter than Darius was expecting.

“Hello, everyone, my name is Heimerdinger, and I am a scientist.”

As the man droned on, it was very painfully clear even to the 5-year-old Darius that this little man had no idea how to talk to children. Darius was disappointed, and already bored, and he could see his friend, Fizz, slouching in his seat, totally uninterested. Even Karma, who was usually very good about paying attention to the adults, was fidgeting and twisting in her seat.

Heimerdinger continued on, completely unaware that he had already lost his audience, and placed contraption after contraption on the desk to show all the children, most of whom weren’t even looking. Until, one object completely fell apart, and flinging several springs which bounced around the room. As one, the children all burst out either laughing or crying, as Heimerdinger only stared in exasperation and confusion at his machine. One of the slower children, Udyr, had picked up one of the springs and attempted to eat it, but it sprang out of his mouth with a perfect twang! much to the great amusement of all the other children, and several jumped out of their seats to pick up the springs and start playing with them.

Heimerdinger was sputtering in desperation, saying “no, don’t eat that!”, “oh dear, no that is not a toy!”, and more as the room descended into chaos - until Rek’Sai came in, clicking and chirping in her manner of speech, quickly scolding the classroom as the children dropped their new ‘toys’ and returned to their seats. Once the classroom was quiet again, Rek’Sai concluded the session, thanking Heimerdinger and helping him put his things back into the large box he came in with.

Darius hoped the next special teacher would be better.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beep boop preschool. I won't normally have continuity on these prompts. Just this specific prompt lends itself well to that.


	21. Diana

Diana knew Leona was still hunting for her. Her initial attempts had been pathetic - from a distance, Diana had watched the warrior march from the Solari temple, and up the mountain path, shortly after the massacre inside the temple. Why Leona thought so firmly, without hesitation, that Diana had gone that way, Diana did not know, but she had hoped it would be the last time she would see the fearsome warrior. It wasn’t. Months later, Leona returned, but this time, Diana could sense new power in her, and she instinctively knew that Leona had, too, become an Aspect.

And, of course, Leona had apparently not forgotten the attack, for Diana frequently saw her tracking what Diana realized were her own trails. She had become much more careful now, treading lightly wherever she went, and only ever ventured out of her hiding places during the night - which she preferred anyway - as Leona never wandered in the dark.

It was not night now. It was the middle of the day, and Diana desperately wanted to sleep, but could not, for she had heard heavy, metallic boots stomping around on the path above her hiding spot, a nook in the cliffside. Having to vacate it when she realized the person had begun attempts to climb down, she carefully descended into the forest below, working to keep herself out of the line of sight of her pursuer. Looking back up once she was in the safety of the dense forests, she saw Leona checking out the small cave. Close. Too close for comfort. Diana turned away to head to the next hiding spot, only to hear a curse followed by a tremendous amount of crashing behind her. Cringing as she turned around, she found Leona was barely five paces away, and getting up in a irritated huff, as if falling down a cliffside was only a minor nuisance to the powerful woman.

Not able to go back up, Leona marched forward into the bushes - straight at the unseen Diana. Her heart jumping into her throat, Diana knew she had two options: Stay where she was and be found, or bolt and be found. One of those had a significantly higher chance of escape than the other, and so Diana bolted, to a surprised shout from Leona. Running nimbly through the forest, Diana could hear the steady, heavy steps just behind, keeping up to her as Leona chased with reckless power. Leona had initially tried shouting to her to stop, as if she would listen, but now focused on her own breathing.

The worst part of the whole situation was that, though she frequently traveled through this forest, she was having a hard time getting her bearings now - it looked so different during the day than it did during the night, and before long, they came to an open chasm, Diana skidding to a halt with Leona barely fifteen paces behind her. It was definitely too far for Diana to jump, and if she turned left or right, Leona would catch her.

Actually, if she stayed here in this spot for another half-second, Leona would catch her, so, just before a hand could grab her own, Diana jumped into the darkness.

She was not in free-fall for very long, and by merciful luck, the bottom had water, which she hit with tremendous impact, her armor saving her from most of the blow. Swimming to the underground shore, she flopped onto her back, panting. Leona had nearly caught her, but she had managed to escape, with only her dignity bruised. All in all, a terrible day so far.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have discovered I do like Diana's character and lore. So, she got a few more words!


	22. Dr. Mundo

Dr. Mundo had been chasing a patient for quite some time now. Why did they always run from their medicine? But, whatever it took to make them better, he would see to their treatment until the end. He had seen plenty of folks coughing and looking tired, and knew it must be an epidemic. He had to find the source, the sickest, and start from the bottom up. Then he had spotted the man. This one was so sickly, his skin was blue, and he needed a strange apparatus in order to breath. Yes, he needed to fix the problem starting with this single most ill patient. But, frustratingly, his patient didn’t seem to understand the urgency of the task, and kept… jumping. It was the best word Mundo had for what he was doing. He would be in one spot, and then disappear and be in another spot. It made it very difficult to catch him. Why, Dr. Mundo had chased him into the deepest, darkest places of all of Zaun!

“Take your medicine!” He shouted urgently as he swung his cleaver again, and the man, once again, disappeared into thin air.

“I’m sorry, medicine?” The man was now above him, standing on an abandoned hut made of scrap metal.

“Yes, you are very sick! You need medicine! Dr. Mundo will help!” Mundo pleaded.

“I… ah… I see… I am not actually that sick, you know. Actually, I can show you some really ill, um, people, you can bury that cleaver- I mean, deliver medicine to them all you want.”

“Really?” Dr. Mundo was surprised that this man knew about sickness, too.

“Yes. I, uh, am a doctor, too! Dr. Kassadin! Quickly, before they escape!” The man once again ‘jumped’ away, and lead Mundo even deeper, and showed Mundo something he had never seen before: The very ground looked sick with disease - a purple, pulsing blemish on the earth floor. “The sick ones, they come out of that. I am going to close it so they cannot escape and spread more sickness, but if you could help out by, uh, delivering medicine to anything that comes out of it, that would be very much appreciated.”

“Yes, absolutely!” And help he did. The people were so badly disfigured Dr. Mundo wasn’t even sure if they were people, but he chopped them up as they came, a grueling task while Dr. Kassadin sutured the world-wound shut with a strange blade. In the end, all that was left was a faint scar on the earth, the purple seeping and retreating back into it.

“Wow, very good! We help a lot of people today!” Dr. Mundo was pleased. “A good day’s job done, I shall go sleep now, bye-bye!”

“Alright, good bye, friend,” Dr. Kassadin waved, and gave a sigh of relief.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now here's a prompt I didn't think would actually work. (This was 18, a friendly encounter, and the random champion was Kassadin...)


	23. Draven

Stupid Darius, always worrying over him like an old, smelly nursemaid. Draven was a MAN, and he was going to prove it, tonight! ‘Stay away from that fortress over there, it’s too dangerous,’ says Darius. Well, Draven was going to prove Darius wrong. That fortress better watch out because HE, DRAVEN, was the one who was REALLY dangerous - with a capital D!

But he did have teensy, tiny reservations about knocking on the front door, and had decided to go around the large, icy fortress, looking for a side gate or other opening instead. Because he was a clever man. He would infiltrate the fortress, and get the information the generals needed! Hah, the scouts were so cowardly, not wanting to go near this giant block of ice. This was a breeze!

Just before Draven was considering scaling the walls (because he had walked the whole perimeter and found nothing), he spotted a small, glass-less window at ground level, and swaggering up to it like the genius he was, he hopped inside. Something hit him in the butt as he climbed through, and looking down, he pulled an arrow out of his now-torn pants, and thanked his lucky stars it did not go very deep, leaving only a minor scratch. It was… the most fancy arrow he had ever seen, gilded and painted and decorated with fine feathers. Pocketing it with a grin, Draven didn’t even notice that his ‘window’ was no longer there as he swaggered confidently deeper into the fortress.

Echoing footsteps, like stilettos on a stone floor in a grand hall, lead him to exactly that: A grand hall with a stone floor. In the center paced a woman, who Draven had decided, right then and there, was the single most beautiful creature in all this frozen wasteland. And he, DRAVEN, would prove to her of his own awesome fabulousness, in the best way he knew how.

“WELCOME, TO THE SHOW OF DRAVEN! FEEEAATURING, DRAAAAVEN!”

The woman stared in shock as he boldly strode forward. “YES, I KNOW IT’S A LOT TO TAKE IN! But you’re in luck, I am a most generous host! Why, tonight, you shall-”

A sizeable chunk of ice had hit him squarely in the face, and Draven was knocked out cold.

“Excellent, a hostage,” Lissandra murmured, pleased.

Darius, the next morning, however, was not pleased at all to be giving up his hard-won location in exchange for his idiotic little brother. Draven was sure he would melt beneath the icy cold glare his brother gave him as he walked back to freedom. Why’d he have to be so stupid?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, Cupid. I had a laugh writing this one.


	24. Ekko

They see me and they think they can laugh  
From their towers up so high above.  
But don’t they know? I am not the chaff.  
One day, I will soar over them like a dove.

Ekko would never let anyone see this scrap of writing. But it helped to write out his feelings in the moment, especially when the feelings were negative and overwhelming. Stupid Pilties… They were aggravating in their self-righteous ways. How could they step on others and still call themselves great? One day, he would prove to them that, at best, they were equals. One day, he would prove that, yes, Zaun was also great.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The poetry ones are going to be short... because they were meant to be, for me.


	25. Elise

Elise craved more power. It was between cycles - the Black Rose were still in the process of gathering gullible ‘acolytes’ for her next trip, and she was hungry for something else in the meantime. Letting her senses guide her, she wandered deep in the underground tunnels of Noxus, where it reeked of forbidden magic and otherworldly things.

Here, the worst of the hideous underbelly of Noxus operated, far from the reach of any authority that cared to stop them in their secret experiments, both magical and mundane. She skittered past a hallway filled with corpses sewed together wrongly, slunk past a circle of novice necromancers chanting to a fresh human heart, and many more such disgusting things before she found what she had been looking for, the strange hum of alien life, and alien power. Stepping carefully and tenderly as a spider, for the stone tunnels had now taken a decided organic turn, and she felt as though she were walking inside another living being, if that living being’s insides were purple and bioluminescent. Strange, armored insect-like monsters skittered past her, and curious, she decided to attempt to eat one. Lunging and sinking her fangs into the next creature, it let out a horrible squeaking hiss as it died. Ignoring the terrible, bitter taste, she sucked up its freshly-liquefied insides, and immediately could feel… something grasping at her, compelling her deeper, compelling her to continue her feast.

*******

If a person who had been familiar with these tunnels had been asked to return to them, they would have refused, swearing never to go, not even for all the money in the world. They say a terrible monster lurks down there, a demonic spider, with a brood in the millions, in the billions, consuming, consuming, consuming. They swear that the world is doomed, that one day, Noxus will collapse upon itself as its grand mountain caves in due to the monsters consuming the tunnels deep down below, slowly spreading outwards and upwards. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am getting better at writing the "touched by the void" prompts! Finally...


	26. Evelynn

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: Lewd. (It's Evelynn, what a surprise.)

Come, now, won’t you be a dear?  
Come now, closer, come near.  
I am sweet, and I am yours to take.  
Come on, we have sweet love to make.

Evelynn suppressed a giggled as the enamored man, a lover of poetry, now willingly flung himself towards her. He’d been a tough nut to crack, so bookish and lacking in libido, but… everyone had their kink. Even poetry, apparently.


	27. Ezreal

Ezreal was shaking. He had gotten so close, so close, to his next big find, a rare piece of archaeological treasure. It was… unfortunate that this trip had him in Noxian territory, looking for Noxian history, but the Piltovan University of History had desperately pleaded with him to make the trip, as they had heard the Noxians planned to destroy the whole area to make room for some military settlement, regardless of the historical significance this place might have had.

He was no expert on Noxian history, but the particular cave of interest had what appeared to be a shrine to a goddess belonging to a lesser-known, ancient Noxian religion - a goddess of shadows or something. The problem was, that despite being an ancient religion, the shrine, apparently, was still in use, and the worshipper that had been at this shrine did not appreciate his intrusion. Chasing him out of the cave, he had actually felt the impact of a knife hitting his hefty backpack, and now, as he set down his pack at his seat inside the tavern, he could see the dagger still lodged in it.

What a day it had been. He was so ready for a drink. Handing the bartender a few coppers, he settled in and let the alcohol seep away his stresses. Thankfully, it didn’t take long, and soon Ezreal was bold enough to chat it up with the locals - burly grunt workers, drinking their wages away after the day of work for the preliminary stage of the giant construction project that would bury the shrine.

“Yeah, me, Iiii am here, fer the historan university of Piltovy,” he nudged his neighbor, who barely spared him a glance. “Gotta save some cave drawin’s an’ all that, before they’re tear ‘em down. Damn Noxians, I hate those guys…”

This got his neighbor’s attention, and the attention of everyone within earshot. Unfortunately for Ezreal, he was a bit too inebriated to notice the imminent danger he was in. One man gave a deep chuckle. “‘Ey Grevor, I got a twinkle-toes for you.” More mean chuckles around Ezreal, and unaware of what was going on, he also gave a laugh. Then he was abruptly grabbed by his collar and lifted bodily out of his seat. “H-hey, watch it, what’re you doing?” he spat out, annoyed. The first blow knocked him out clean.

When he next awoke, he was in the garbage heap behind the tavern, along with his scattered, ruined pack. “... Damn Noxians. I hate those guys,” he muttered under his breath as he picked himself up, badly bruised and filthy.


	28. Fiddlesticks

Who dared to walk in his field and disturb the growing wheat? The scarecrow watched through eye slits most people assumed did not see, as an old man hobbled along with a ridiculously large stopwatch, literally strapped to his back. Fiddlesticks had seen also sorts of strange folk, but the old ones were usually not in that category. Regardless, an intruder was an intruder, and it would make it well clear they were not welcome here. Just as it was about to animate, however, another, even stranger individual barely dressed in bright shades of pink and white, suddenly popped up, further away from Fiddlesticks, with the old man between them now. He had a bow in hand, and fired at the old man.

The old man sidestepped, then chuckled. “I knew you would do that.”

The younger man shouted back, with a big, mischievous grin, “You cannot hide from me forever! It will be your turn one day, old one!” Another arrow was loosed, and again the old man dodged it with expert precision. This arrow, however, had lodged itself into the scarecrow. Now angered, the scarecrow was done with just watching, and burst to life with an unearthly scream. The pink-clad man, further back, ducked away in surprise, as the old man merely gave a smile, as if he had been expecting this, also. “And I knew you would do that.”

The confidence, the uncanny knowledge, the strangeness of this unafraid man, it was… amazing, astounding, incredible to Fiddlesticks. The scarecrow staggered forward. “How?” it croaked. “How are you, an elderly man, so unafraid? I have scared so many before you, absolutely witless, even without always destroying them. And yet, you stand, so sure and so steadfast. You impress me.”

The man gave another warm smile, and continued his slow pace. “I am a knower of many things. I know you are here. I knew that young prankster was there. And I know these things even before they happened. How I know, well, that would be a secret of the trade, no?” Fiddlesticks nodded dumbly, entranced, and content to just watch the old man. It noticed now that he was careful to disturb as few wheat stalks as was humanly possible, and it had to admire, too, the man’s respect; if he must pass through this way, then at least he does so knowing he cannot merely trample everything in his path.

Until the edge of the field, Fiddlesticks followed the man, admiring and dumbstruck. But though he wanted to follow the old man to wherever he was going, the urge to protect his field was stronger still, and so he stood and watched until his new friend disappeared into the hills, before resuming his position in the center of the field.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cupid's hitting all the strange combos.


	29. Fiora

She had just cleaned up after a fantastic duel with an old friend and rival, the strange traveller named Jax. As they usually did, they had ended in a draw after many hours of intense battle, both soaking from sweat and so weary neither could lift their own weapons. Now was the time for a small celebration of their friendship - at the estate winery, sampling some of the fresh harvest.

Jax, freshly bathed and clothed, courtesy of her own supplies, was already there, examining the various cheeses and other delicacies to go with the wine. Sitting down as the vintner poured them both a glass, they chatted for a long while, sipping glass after glass of wine, until both, rather drunk, had decided to have a ‘rematch’. Stumbling and staggering to the practice hall, the pair were greeted by Ammdar, Fiora’s older brouther, who pressed flimsy willow sticks into their hands. “You two are drunk. There will be no dueling with real weapons in here, or you might actually kill one another.”

“Bah,” Jax laughed, “I hardly need a real weapon anyway! Let’s do this!”

They got into their starting stances, and burst out giggling at each other, for their stances were terrible, as drunk as they were. So they tried a couple passes. Jax tripped over his own feet, while Fiora had sidestepped into the wall, dramatically falling over in surprise. Ammdar, who was supervising, only facepalmed. More shenanigans ensued as they attempted to duel, until both, tired, decided right then and there that the wooden floor was the perfect place to nap.

Fiora woke up the next morning in her bed, a glass of water at her bedside table. Remembering the previous day’s events, she sighed. She was glad that her companion of choice had been the strange traveller. Anyone else, and the whole thing would have turned into a horrendous scandal of alcoholism and indecency. It was nice to have a break from all the social politics.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The drunk prompts are fun.


	30. Fizz

It was to be a routine early-morning trip to the land, to ‘visit’ the land-people who always took too much fish from the ocean. It was payback time, as it always was. These ugly fishermen on this coast were a mean sort, and didn’t care what they caught, no matter how precious and rare. Scouting the huts out with his trident in hand, Fizz glanced back at his shark friend swimming in the waters behind him. Chomper was unhappy, because she could not come along onto the hard, dry ground.

“I’ll be back in no time at all, don’t worry! Now go hide, or you’ll blow my cover!” Fizz knew he was very much an unwelcome presence in these places, having to be the one to set things right. The theft of the fish could not go unpunished. But, his unpopular actions had built him up a reputation, earning him some less-than-savoury nicknames: Tidal Trickster, Shark Demon, and Bloody Squid were a few of the more tame ones. Whenever the shore dwellers had seen either him or Chomper, they were quick to start shouting and grabbing whatever weapons they had lying around. One or two of them, and he could dance circles around them all he wanted, but they had a tendency to mob, and with so many, he would be forced to slip away and vanish back into the water, to try his mission some other day.

But so far, as he crept from dunegrass to boulder to dunegrass, no one in this sleepy little village had noticed him yet. Making his way to the rack of fish smoking over a fire, the plan was to dislodge the rack and have all the fish fall onto the sand or the fire, ruining them. What really happened, however, was him underestimating how solid the rack was, and losing his precarious balance on his trident, and crash into the fire himself. Leaping out of it and yelping in pain, he realized he had made the first mistake: Noise. If the villagers were still sleeping before in their huts, they weren’t anymore. Several heads peeked out of doorways, followed by shouts and curses as men scrambled for whatever weapons or tools they wanted.

Giving up on the rack, Fizz picked up his trident again and made for the boats that were drying on the beach. Smashing a couple holes into those would slow these land-people’s efforts to deplete the ocean of its life. Leaping at the nearest boat, sharp end of the trident first, he smashed into it. But instead of a clean break, his trident got itself well and thoroughly lodged. Tugging on it, he tried desperately to free it as the humans rushed to close in on him, torches and swords out. The trident wouldn’t budge, though, and he was forced to abandon it in favour of freedom. Quickly scrambling between the legs of the humans blocking his path to the water, he felt a hand grab him, but failed to find purchase on the slimy amphibian as he slipped past. Only when he was engulfed in deep water with Chomper nudging him in great concern did Fizz let out the breath he didn’t know he was holding.

His trident, though! That was a serious blow. He would have to sneak back into here at a later time to retrieve it. Yes, this mission had been far from ‘routine’. He’d even go so far as to say it had been disastrous...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't you love Murphy's law?


	31. Galio

The army that marched with him was massive. Galio had never seen so many soldiers gathered. The Demacians, he knew, were marching to a very big battle, evidently. He wish he could actually march with them, but he had yet to convince the little girl to accompany him, to let the Demacians know that he could be so much more, with her help. But she was still scared, still scared of her own kin. Galio could only be sad for her. To be a mage in Demacian. Well, he liked the good ones, the ones he intrinsically knew to be pure of heart. Why could Demacia not see that she was good, also?

But, instead, he was being hauled along by many beasts of burden. That was fine. He hoped he could be of use wherever he was going.

It wasn’t for another three weeks before the soldiers stopped their march, gathering around a fabulous, white-stoned city, setting up camp and building up fortifications. The city nearly rivaled the Demacian capital in size, and the fact that it was built all up a cliffside only added to its grandeur. Galio wished he could walk about it. But alas, he was still stiff as stone. Another week of waiting passed. On the eighth day, however, just before dawn, another gathering of men began to appear on the distant hills. Black armor, jagged weaponry; even in his blurry state, Galio knew these were Noxians. And like the Demacians, there were a lot of them. Coming down the hills and charging through the fields in as much silence as a charging army could make, the Noxians apparently hoped to catch the Demacians unawares. But his people were smarter than that, and were fully prepared behind their walls and fortifications. The warring sides met with a mighty clash, and the battle began.

For hours, Galio could only watch the tiny men beneath his feet fighting. But he knew the Noxians had brought mages. He could sense their insidious powers from afar, and very gradually, he could feel life coming into his limbs. First, the tips of his fingers and toes, then the whole fingers. But even though he had some movement now, he held perfectly still, waiting for his whole body to come alive. That way, he would have the element of surprise, when he did finally decide to move. He wondered if these Noxians knew or believed the legends surrounding him.

Well, it was no longer time to wonder, but to once again make history. He knew every part of him was able to move now. Opening his eyes wide, he scanned the battlefield - and spotted what he was looking for: In roughly the middle of the Noxians, there was a small clearing with only two persons standing in it: A small one carrying a flag decorated in the Noxian emblem, and a second, larger, menacing one, clearly watching and directing the Noxians as they fought. He reeked of magic, and somehow reminded Galio of the black birds that sometimes perched on his body. With an enthusiastic roar, Galio leapt into the fray, directly at the bird-mage.

“Come now, don’t just stand there! Do something, also!” Galio shouted down towards his feet after he landed. A general who did no fighting was no general at all. But the bird-man had done something; he had transformed into a giant bird and hopped out of the way, now desperately trying to cast magic to fight him, Galio, off. Galio laughed. “Your magic is impressive, I am sure, but it has no effect on me!” And it didn’t, other than help him to be even more alive. “My turn!”

Two massive fists slammed the ground, and two wings swept whatever nearby Noxians were still standing, off their feet. The bird-man had anticipated this, however, and had leapt into the air, flapping his own wings to stay aloft as the ground shook beneath him. Once the ground was stable, he landed, and tried to run away.

Galio gave another laugh, then glanced back at his own people. They were tired. He better finish this quickly, so that no more lives would be lost. Looking down, the bird-man had managed some distance, still trying to fire off spell after spell, so Galio took a single step forward as catapults, quickly repositioned to redirect their attention on him, missed the moving statue. Sweeping an arm down, he picked up the bird-man, and crushed him. He didn’t like the crunching of broken bones, but this man was an evil mage, and the leader of the enemies of his friends. Letting the crushed, dead body fall back into the masses of black-clad bodies as they frantically began to run away, leaderless. The battle was finished very quickly after that, and with what few traces of magic still existed here quickly leaving the area, Galio returned to his signature pose, turning still as a statue once again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I rolled for a showdown with his nemesis. I have no idea who that is, but I have decided to make it Swain.


	32. Gangplank

Roses are boring.  
Violets are boring.  
This is boring.  
I hate having to sit still and recover from my injuries.  
Save me from this hell.

\- Gangplank

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poetry for Gangplank? I... I imagine this is probably what Gangplank would write.


	33. Garen

This was to be the battle of a lifetime. They would be writing this one in the history books for centuries to come. Nearly the entire army was gathered here. Quartzknoll was an impressive city, and a very important strategic hold. The entire city was built in a cliff, facing the east, facing Noxus, whose territory was only a few days’ march from here. Being on higher ground, with walls and fortifications, Demacia could not afford to lose this precious location. So when word was found out that the Noxians would be launching a massive attack against it, to take it once and for all, Demacia responded in great force.

Garen was nervous, having so many men here, and not elsewhere. What if the information had been false? What if the Noxians had seeded that information, to draw troops away from elsewhere, so they could catch other areas unawares? But, Garen’s worries were dissipated when, in the middle of the night, the scouts began coming in with reports confirming that there was, indeed, a large number of Noxians marching towards Quartzknoll, and they were due to arrive around early morning. Of course, those worries were immediately replaced by new ones: How many would lose their lives on this day?

But Garen did not sit and stew: He had a field army to organize for the impending attack. Working with the four other generals, they prepared as best as they could, the tension of the entire army nearly tangible in the air. Then, they waited, for what felt like an eternity. Finally, just before dawn, just before one could see somewhat clearly in the darkness, the more sharp-eyed in the army could see, in the horizon, approaching men, clearly enemies. As those came down the distant hills, Garen could hear distant hooves galloping towards them. Nodding to the other generals down the line, he shouted, “Prepare for attack! They are approaching quickly!”

Then, it was chaos, as war always was. Leading into the Noxians with his soldiers at his back, Garen fought his enemies with the strength of ten men. Everything seemed to melt into a terrible blur of blood and broken bodies, as he focused his whole mind to the task, hoping for it to be done soon.

At one point, a messenger came up to him, with a message from General Spiritmight: Though Garen being on the frontline was a much-needed encouragement, to instill strength in his comrades, and fear in his enemies, he was needed elsewhere in the army: To direct. He hated to lead from behind, but with such a large force, he had to admit that he could only do one or the other: Lead, or fight. So, reluctantly, he pulled back, and headed to a higher vantage point from which to watch and figure out what needed doing where.

Minutes turned into hours as Garen paced back and forth along the rampart, shouting encouragement to his soldiers, directing their efforts to their enemies’ weakest points, regrouping, reorganizing, re-optimizing. Over and over and over again. The Noxians had brought mages. He was very glad General Terev thought to bring Galio. The giant statue stood high above everything else, absorbing nearly all the magic those mages could weave.

Keeping up his jog, he turned the corner of the rampart, a blind corner as a watchtower blocked his view of the other side, and very nearly met his death. Thankfully, it seemed he had surprised the assassin as much as she had surprised him, and so she hadn’t reacted quickly enough to shove one of those wicked daggers through his neck before he could grab her by the arm and fling her over the wall. She had caught the ledge stones, however, and managed to stay on the wall, so he quickly unsheathed his sword from his back, knowing the task was costing him precious seconds as she lifted herself back onto the wall, red hair and evil, bloodthirsty grin screaming danger. But Garen was no coward, and confidently took his fighting stance.

The woman threw one of her daggers at him, and he dodged it, jumping to the side, but she vanished right before his very eyes. The fact that he never heard the dagger hit the ground behind him told him to spin around, and his sword met her crossed daggers as she braced herself from the blow, skidding back several steps. Giving a frustrated snort, she jumped at him again, and he moved his sword to parry, but she again vanished, and he felt a sharp jab in his lower back - thankfully blocked by the heavy chainmail. Again he spun, and had to immediately duck out of the way as two kunai and the dagger again headed straight for his face. This woman, it was only a matter of time before she broke his defense. He had to strike back, and so he did, or tried to, for as he charged, she once again vanished with that gloating grin. Spinning around, he saw her laughing at him, twirling a dagger in her hand. She suddenly glanced up with a confused look on her face, and not buying the bait to look behind him, he charged her one last time, only to be nearly knocked off his feet from the impact of something very, very large.

Staggering to stay upright, he spun around - and saw the strangest sight he had ever seen: Galio. A stone statue. Alive, and in the middle of the Noxians. Fighting the Noxians. Garen was dumbstruck. Unfortunately, his distraction cost him his life, as he felt a weight hit him on his back, _the assassin_ , and before he could react, his neck had been cut open, nearly cutting his head off. Collapsing to his knees, he could hear the horrible woman laughing behind him as his breathing became laboured and filled with blood. He tried to pick up his sword, but his hands could only hover around his neck, unable to do anything but grieve his own imminent loss. But now, he could hear his men cheering as the assassin stopped laughing, and instead took to swearing foul curses.

Well, at least Demacia won… He would have liked to have seen the victory, but instead, the last thing he saw was the redhead attempting to make herself scarce as the darkness took him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was very excited to write Garen's prompt, and not because the prompt I got was his death, but because that meant an excuse to write in Katarina into the story. Because them meeting and her killing him is totally and completely feasible!  
> Also, managed to tie this story in with Galio's!


	34. Gnar

As Gnar wandered about the vast, wide world, discovering things both old and new to him, he one day found himself in a little grove. It was a beautiful, serene place, and even his primitive mind could appreciate it. Sitting down on the thick carpet of moss, he relaxed, taking in the sights of lush greenery around him, the smells of fragrant flowers and earthy forest, the sounds of gently rustling leaves and bubbling stream. Giving a contented sigh, he flopped onto his back, and shut his eyes; a nap in this spot sounded like a great idea.

A soft padding of footsteps in the dense moss caused Gnar to open his eyes and sit up again. Looking around, he noticed a gentle-looking woman, taking a seat on a log, watching him with an amused twinkle in her eyes. “Well, hello there, little one. What brings you to my home?” she asked in a voice soft and smooth as silk. Gnar happily walked up to her and sat next to her, smiling, mimicking her. He noticed she had not-human feet, a horn, and her skin was as purple as some of the flowers.

“Aren’t you precious? Most come here looking for help, for healing of their ailments and injuries, with very few thanks. But you come, simply to enjoy this place? It is very nice, yes, and you are welcome to enjoy it.”

Gnar did not understand a single word she spoke, but he liked the sound of her voice, and cuddled up close, shutting his eyes, giving a happy chirp in response. She sighed and pet him gently, “well, that is acceptable, too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Friendly encounter between Gnar and Soraka? Aw yesss.


	35. Gragas

Opening his pub in Noxus had been a terrible idea. Sure, it was always packed, and it made good money, but Gragas was constantly up to his ears in problems. Normally, he liked a good pub fight, but the drunkard Noxians constantly fought each other, trashing the place. Truth be told, he was getting sick of having to clean up booze, broken glass, broken furniture, blood, urine, feces… The place reeked, and the repair bills made a nasty cut into his profits. Wishing he could drink away his problems, he instead mentally braced himself for the next big fight that was coming through the door right now: Draven, one of the infamous Blood Brothers, strode in with that ugly sneer on his face, fresh out of the arena where he daily made his gruesome displays of killing. And of course, the pompous twerp was looking to make trouble, all to attract more attention to himself. And he knew an angry mob of alcoholics was a good place to start.

As he prepared drinks for whoever was next, Gragas watched Draven rudely bump and shove people, already eliciting the ire of a good number of patrons, as he sauntered up to the counter, and shout, “Hey, fatman! How about a drink for your favourite client! Hey, hey, stop making other drinks, I want a whiskey on the rocks right now!”

“Oh yeah? You can wait your turn, jus’ like everyone else here. Also, y’still owe me money from yer last visit,” Gragas growled back as he continued, slowly, making drinks for anyone else.

“I told you to send the bill to my brother, he can take care of it!”

“And ‘e told me to charge you, ‘cause yer a big boy now who can take care of ‘is own bills. You know that.”

“Oh for fuck’s sakes, just make me a damn drink, stupid fatty!” Draven snarled, losing his temper over not getting his way, eyeballing the glassware with a dangerous look.

“Y’know what? No.” Gragas, with surprising agility, heaved himself over the counter and slammed directly into Draven, the much-lighter man sent crashing backwards into a table. Before Draven could get up, before the fight could progress into a full tavern brawl, however, Gragas picked him up by the collar of his shirt and the belt of his pants, and bodily hauled his yelling, screaming ass to the back door, then punched the arrogant man, knocking him out cold, and throwing him into the alleyway.

“Night-night, idiot,” he mumbled, shutting the door. For the first time ever, the pub erupted into a harmonious cheer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unfriendly encounter between Gragas and Draven practically wrote itself.


	36. Graves

But if I kill you, what will I do?  
Because deep down, I know we’re not yet “through”.  
But if I kill you, what will I do?  
Because I know the blame isn’t all on you.

This was a song Malcolm frequently hummed under his breath whenever he did hum, whether it was while he walked, rowed, swam. It helped him to think, to sort out his thoughts, to remind him that his old friend wasn’t the villain that he seemed to be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poetry. These poetry prompts are killing me.


	37. Hecarim

Corvin’s Rock was a desolate, inhospitable place, a lonely outcrop in the sea just off the coast of Noxus Prime. It had a single, large building, a small dock, and a daily ship travelling to and from it, and was carefully watched by the Noxian armada in the waters surrounding it. This was the jail of Noxus, a miserable place for anyone, jailer or prisoner, to be, and the deaths were frequent. Safety was of little concern - if the prisoners killed each other, then it’d be less mouths that needed feeding.

It was the dying, the dead, on this tiny little island, that drew the monstrous spectre known as Hecarim one night, relishing in the crushed little souls. In a horrific display, Hecarim trampled the place to the ground, absorbing the life essence of its unlucky inhabitants, and even smashed a few nearby ships, sinking them as the rest all moved well clear away, back to Noxus Prime. His reign of terror carried on through the night, until, by morning, not a single creature was left still living on the island.

To this day, it now remains completely empty and barren, only the crumbling rubble giving clue that it was ever occupied. Despite it being so close to the capital, Noxians won’t dare step foot on it, won’t dare sail near it, for fear of whatever malignant curse might possibly still exist there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How does one send a ghost to jail?


	38. Heimerdinger

A two, a three, a four  
Thrice multiplied, an eight.  
Which number do I love more?  
These equations are fun to make!

A twelve, just twice we strive.  
Or six fours, if that suits you well.  
Sixteen times one-point-five,  
Twenty-four’s a number that’s swell!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More poetry, yay! Also, my favourite number is 24. Heimer's a math-y dude, right?


	39. Illaoi

Illaoi moved with a sureness in her stride. She had been summoned to the front gate of the temple, to, according to the Hierophant, “deal with an obnoxious and belligerent paylangi that has been spewing vile words for the past two hours”. The religious group had just re-inhabited this temple that had previously been abandoned and empty, inside Bilgewater. Their neighbors, so far, had been mostly indifferent, except for these few instances where someone took issue with them, mostly drunken and angry at the world at large. This man was one of such persons, this having been the third of his outbursts in a week.

Illaoi could sense Nagakabouros stirring, and she could sense what the god wanted. This man was to be tested. If he had the will to be angry, and to actually follow through on his anger, if that was truly his desire, then he shall walk away. But if he was merely stagnating, and doing nothing but blaming others for his own failures, then he would be destroyed. She knew this, though she had never tested anyone before, being so new in her role.

Dismissing everyone else from the courtyard, she finally turned her attention fully to him. Interrupting his tirade in a loud, booming voice, she announced, “BEHOLD!” Going through the motions taught to her by her mentors, she reached out in her mind for Nagakabouros, and placing the giant, heavy idol forward, she watched as mist poured forth from the idol and shaped into giant tentacles. These grew and expanded, while one dived for the now-terrified man’s heart, ripping his soul out as he gave an ear-splitting scream. She knew, even before the tentacles began to crush him, that such a weak-willed, lily-livered man was not going to make it. The testing was fast, and by the time it was done, all that remained of him was a bloody, broken man-shaped mess. He did not pass. He only wanted to wallow in his own misery. He did not have the gumption to move past that and solve his problems. Nagakabouros has taken back his energy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First kill prompts are challenging to get right.


	40. Irelia

As one of her many duties as the Captain of the Guard, Irelia was charged with protecting certain weaponized magical artefacts. Among these included hextech weaponry that originated all the way from Piltover, brought onto Ionian soil by the foul Noxians, who sought to use them in battle. In Irelia’s care, they were nothing more than trinkets to be looked at, from behind locked cabinets and showcases.

When, one day, her fellow guards alerted her to a very strange intruder in the museum that held the decommissioned weapons, she did not expect to see what looked to be a giant crystal scorpion. The guards had it calmed down by the time she had arrived at the museum, and she could tell that at heart, the creature was a gentle, peaceful sort, that had no desire to use its formidable claws, teeth, and stinger, unless it was forced to.

“What is it?” She asked her men, already knowing they did not have the answer.

“We don’t know. We caught it lurking around, trying to get inside the museum! It seems really confused.”

“Does it speak?”

“If whatever sound it was making was a language, it’s not one we’ve ever heard.”

Irelia mused. She tried a wave. It waved back, stepping forward. So it might be intelligent. Through considerable miming, Irelia eventually figured out that it wanted to be let inside the museum. Normally, one needed an appointment to go inside, but she supposed this counted as making one. So, walking slowly, and indicating for it to follow, she let it inside. Hurriedly, it scuttled directly towards the cabinet that contained the hextech inventions, and desperately glanced back and forth between her and the objects within, raising a claw and pointing at one of them.

Not really knowing what to expect, but her instincts telling her to open the cabinet, she unlocked the cabinet, and let the scorpion pick up the weapon, the crystal within still humming with life. Suddenly, it smashed the weapon to pieces, exposing the crystal, which it took into its mouth, then went for the next weapon. The crystal in its mouth, Irelia suddenly got a tiny notion what was going on: The scorpion, alive and well, looked much different than the crystals it was desperately scavenging, but there was a distinct resemblance. She didn’t know much about the crystals, other than they contained a lot of power to, of course, power the hextech devices. Were they… once crystal scorpions, too?

“Captain, it’s… destroying those artefacts!” As if she couldn’t already see that. But they were weapons of destruction, of killing. They had no place in the world, anyway.

“I know. But, I think this is a case of returning stolen remains to their rightful people.”

As soon it had ripped apart the last hextech device and retrieved its crystal, the scorpion relaxed considerably, and with more loose, calm movements, it turned back to Irelia and gave what she could only imagine might be the scorpion version of a bow, before quickly scuttling back out again. She bowed back with a smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A friendly encounter between Irelia and Skarner? When would they ever meet? Some of these prompts have me doing some serious searching.


	41. Ivern

Ivern was in a new forest. He could tell, for the trees made about as much sense as a squirrel on mushrooms. He had no idea how he had managed to wander here in his adventures, but something told him he was very, very far from anything he would have called home. Oh well, this could be his home, too!

The trees, long and slender, with tufts of fluff at the ends, made the bulk of the forest, with small shrubs and flowers for the undergrowth. It all looked so fragile! Now, however, a numerous amount of creatures, small and large, were approaching Ivern. “Well, Daisy! What say you, we get to know some of the locals here?” Daisy nodded, and approaching the creatures, they gave a greeting. Through the magic of the forest, of everything living, they made new friends amongst all the fantastical creatures here, and learned from the Bar-ba-loots that not all was well in this forest, for all the beauty it held.

Once, this forest had been healthy and thriving, protected by a spirit known as the Lorax, a friend of the forest. Then, a terrible person known as the Once-ler had come, and chopped down every last Truffula tree, for his own profit. The man did not realize his folly until it was much too late, and the forest was gone, permanently destroyed, the Lorax with it. In a lousy effort to redeem himself, he gave a Truffula seed to a young boy, throwing the burden that should have been the Once-ler’s, onto the poor kid, to try to restore the forest and bring back life to the area. The boy, a good child, had done just that, and the forest that Ivern now stood in is his legacy, his life’s work.

But, humans have a poor memory, as it turns out. (Ivern already knew this.) Now that the boy, who had grown into a man, had passed on, the harrowing tale of destruction has dimmed in the nearby human population, and more greedy men are beginning to venture into the forest once more, destroying it at an even more alarming rate than the Once-ler had.

The creatures of the forest were scared. They had no Lorax to speak for the trees, to speak for them. They knew Ivern was a friend of the forest, and now, they pleaded him to help.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cross-over prompt and my good friend picks a story I've never read. WELP.


	42. Janna

In a playful mood, the spirit called Janna taunted the prankster clothed in pink, dodging his arrows with elegance, occasionally dissipating into wind to reform somewhere else, using her powers to send the arrows off in different directions. At first, the prankster had played along, always pleased to play an amusing game, but the more arrows he shot, the more frustrated he got, as Janna was so impossibly quick. This only served to amuse Janna even more.

“It’s like… throwing leaves into the wind! Don’t worry, it might work!” she taunted him, before vanishing as an arrow passed through her harmlessly. “I mean, you’re trying to shoot the air, silly boy! You may as well try to shoot the ground! You’ll have better success!”

At first, he had been shouting, but the longer the game went on, he got quieter and quieter, devoting more attention to his aim - as if he could actually ever hit a wind spirit. But Janna could sense - or rather, smell, a new presence nearing them. It was burning, fire. She could sense the power behind it, too, power like her own. As entertaining as it had been, she may have to end this little game with the trickster. Drifting off, she searched for the source of the power, and came across a stand of trees, burning in a giant inferno. Nearly invisible amongst the flames, for he was one, (as she was invisible in the air, for she normally was just air) stood the flame spirit, dancing a beautiful dance. But the beauty could become extreme danger for the nearby human settlements, as the fire could spread out from this grove along the dry grass, for many miles around.

Materializing into her tangible form, she approached the fire spirit to try to reason with it - and suddenly felt a sharp pain in her back. The trickster! Was he really still playing his childish game with such a dangerous situation unfolding? Janna only had seconds to be furious before the arrow’s magic took hold, and suddenly, she felt a lot better. Turning her attention to the fire spirit, she could not help herself becoming entranced with the fire spirit, and showing her own awesome power, she joined him in his wonderful dance, creating a tremendous firestorm, a beautiful thing, if one were not concerned for safety. And she wasn’t.

\---

Cupid pouted on the mountainside, having dashed all the way up here after he had hit the wind spirit. This was _definitely not_ how he had wanted this to go. His desire to see what sort of creatures he could charm with his arrow, had backfired spectacularly. She fell in love with a _fire spirit_ and together, they were now burning down _a lot of things_. Oops.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some of these rolls are really perfect.


	43. Jax

Encouraged by his giggling friends, Jax sat down in front of the Interuniversal Networking Terminal to look at whatever stupid stuff they wanted to show him.  
“Hee hee hee, it’s stories of you, Jax!” laughed one, “from a universe where you are a fictional character!”

Jax sighed. Of course this was the sort of thing his friends would find to share with him. “Haven’t you guys got anything better to do?” he muttered, not really wanting to know what was in store.

“Nope! Now read it!” was the cheerful reply he got. So he did read the stories. He felt bad for whoever were the other people in some of these stories, written as sluts or ditz or other such uncomplimentary, degrading manners. But the fictional him, he had to admire was fairly well-written: Mostly honorable, always sticking to his promises, even if he said some things completely uncharacteristic to him.

When he was done, he looked back at his friends. “There, happy now?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guys haven't written a whole lot about Jax, I could read it all.
> 
> I realize I skipped Jarvan IV. I'm having a really hard time writing his prompt. I will be revisiting him later, but am currently too stuck.


	44. Jayce

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Warning: Explicit (fade to black)**

Jayce had to shake his head at the stranger inventions and experiments that his colleagues constructed and conducted, but this one was probably the most fantastic and bewildering one yet. A group obsessed with the concept of time-travel had managed to create a portal, but instead of the portal going back or forward in time, it had merely opened a hole to an alternate universe, where a different timeline with different people existed altogether.

Though every party involved had initially been very confused and alarmed, the silver-tongued Rialto had managed to calm the storm before any hostilities occurred, and lo and behold, the team had invited all their friends to the local club for a meet-and-greet with the foreigners from the other side of the portal, so Jayce had put on his best suit and attended, making small talk and flirting with the more attractive persons. For the most part, they looked human, except where they had giant, feathery wings. Jayce had to wonder how that had happened to evolved, as it was very confusing from the perspective of his own education - the best understanding of their own evolution. Birds and feathers were very far-off from mammals and hair.

But now was not the time for science. Now was the time for socializing, and so Jayce smoothly approached the nearest winged person, and began to make some small talk. Of course, neither party had any idea what the other was saying, but the lady bird-person seemed interested in him regardless. He was a smooth person like that, he knew.

They talked for some time, miming a fair bit and not having the least clue what the other meant anyway, before the winged woman smiled, laughing at something he said or did, and gestured for him to follow her. She led him upstairs to the guest rooms in the clubhouse, and shut the door, before stripping completely naked in front of him, raising an eyebrow when he did not follow suit.

Baffled, Jayce took a moment to recollect his thoughts. That he was hoping to get a score tonight, he knew. But he had not imagined that it would happen so fast. Obviously, something about his body language was… a bit stronger than he intended, or maybe theirs was a culture that was much more casual about these sort of things.

So, awkwardly, Jayce also stripped down, and took her to bed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hate rolling 1s. Easily the worst prompt for me to have to write.


	45. Jhin

Plan after meticulous plan. Months upon months of work. It was supposed to have been a splendid performance. Beautiful. Wondrous. Inspiring. Magnificent. But then, at the end, everything fell apart. Before he could even fire the first shot from the fourth story window, a fist had connected with his perfect, delicate face. With a shout of indignation, he tumbled backwards, dropping his gun as he fell. But his attacker was relentless, and stomped on precious Whisper, smashing it to pieces. Giving a choked cry, he tried to scramble away, but was grabbed roughly by the back of his shirt, and thrown bodily against the back wall of the dingy hotel room. Too stunned to respond effectively, he found himself being dragged out of the building and lifted up like a puppet in front of a scowling crowd.

“Behold, the ‘Golden Demon’, a stinking shit-sucker who fancies himself an artist!” shouted his captor as his mask was ripped off, to the booing of the crowd. Without the mask, he felt so much more vulnerable. Why were they so angry? How could they not see the greatness in his performances? Thrown into a cart that might be more suitable for transporting an animal than a person, he could only curl up and cry as rotten food, waste, and rocks were thrown as he was transported off to gods-know-where.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I cannot express to you how much I hate the character Jhin. So I am pleased to write him getting thrown into jail.


	46. Jinx

Jinx found herself hopping off the gangplank of a ship onto the docks of an Ionian port built into a cliffside. She was only vaguely aware of how she had gotten there. (Something about having to run from authorities and hiding in some luggage.) But regardless, Jinx was going to have some fun - the Ionian city’s architecture was gorgeously arched and highly decorative. It was perfect for blowing up into nothing but rubble.

So off she skipped, humming a tune as the funny-dressed people stared at her. She made faces at them in response. Now, where to start? She mused, then seeing the large temple at the top of the cliffside, she nodded to herself. Yep. That place would be perfect.

It had been quite a trek, and by the time she reached the top of the steep roads and the front of the temple, she dramatically flopped onto her back to pant in weariness. Her guns were heavy! To her mild annoyance, for she needed privacy to set up her, uh, display, someone opened the gate and approached her, speaking in very broken Ur-Noxian. “Why… here… you?”

So she sat up and looked at him. He was… naked, kind of. She couldn’t decide if the stuff on his legs was pants or some kind of feathers, or just a lot of weird growths, but it was the only thing he wore, unless she counted the equally weird looking bow in his hands as apparel.

“Uhhh… just having a look around!” she replied, again in Ur-Noxian, definitely not knowing a single word of whatever languages the Ionians spoke. She got up to walk away. She’d have to lose him before she could do anything.

But the man only gave her a curious glance, examining her from head to toe. “Come, bed with me. The… authorities, they no like you. You have guns. I can hide you.”

Well, what would life be worth living for, if not for impulses? “Okay!” she responded cheerfully, and followed him inside. Were whatever authorities that existed here already searching for her, just because she was carrying Powpow and Fishbones? Damn!

So she followed him inside the temple, and the man walked agonizingly slowly to wherever his bedroom was, while she impatiently danced circles around him. Already her plan was coming to life: She could wait until he was asleep - he seemed boring enough that he would fall asleep - and then boom!

Finally, they entered a room, and it did have a bed. “Well?” she laughed as she undressed.

“I…” the man stammered. Then the door burst open. RUDE. She was naked! But the guards came in regardless and rushed her, throwing her to the ground as they kicked - kicked, how dare they! - Powpow and Fishbones away. “I don’t have parts.” The man finally finished his sentence, a smug look on his face. He never intended to bed her! It had all been a trap!

“But I didn’t even DO anything yet!” she whined as a guard wrapped her up in a blanket before bodily hauling her out. A persnickety-looking woman was with the guards, and spoke clearly in Tradespeak, a common language born of necessity in Piltover. “An undocumented, illegal passenger aboard a foreign trade ship steps foot onto our lands, carrying dangerous weapons and explosives, and seems to think we will be okay with that. You are duller than a sack of shit.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jinx is another (of three total) character that I utterly despise. And I rolled a 1 for her. But the randomly rolled partner, Varus, well, I'm not sure his junk is even working, what with demon pants going on there. So I wrote this.


	47. Kalista

Kalista stood over her latest kill, a treacherous woman who had taken the hearts and wealth of many, only to stab them in the back in return. Just the sort of person she despised. The spectre turned away to leave, for there were many more traitorous persons who yet still needed to die tonight, but a knock at the woman’s front door caught her attention. Curious, she walked through the solid door, and looked down at the two living beings who stood before her. They were nicely dressed, and carried with them what she knew to be religious texts. She could sense the power the texts held against the undead. One of the preachers went pale as a ghost upon seeing her, while the other, seemingly nervous even before she revealed herself, launched into a speech, so obviously forced and rehearsed.

“H-have you met our lord and saviour…” he rambled along through his speech, seemingly oblivious to the fact that Kalista was definitely not human, and hadn’t been for a very long time. The other desperately tugged at his shirt sleeve. “Um, hey, um. S-stop for a minute, Rhaken.”

Finally Rhaken, interrupted by his companion, seemed to notice their undead audience, stared at Kalista for a solid three seconds, and then quickly and loudly stammered, “uhhh here is the pamphlet we are offering this month, we would be glad to set up a study, just give us a knock at the Woodspeak Hall!” Then he quickly shoved the pamphlet into her hands, and took off running with an earsplitting scream, his friend following close behind him.

Dropping the paper, for the holy item burned in her hands, Kalista could only stare at the pair as they continued to make all haste up the street. Well, that was a new one, and it certainly made for an interesting start to the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I definitely did not nail Kalista here. Oh well, it made me laugh.


	48. Karma

Calculating her options, Karma stood at the rim of the crater. It had been created by foul, explosive Noxian magics, and so corrupting they were, that they had managed to open a hole to the void, at the bottom of the crater. The offenders had since been driven off by the defending Ionians, but now, Karma had bigger problems than Noxians: The abominations attempting to rip through the hole and come out into their world. For now, the creatures were dissuaded by the light of the sun, but Karma knew that fear would not last long. Even if they remained fearful of the sun, it would soon set, and they’d be free to crawl out during the night in untold numbers.

There were certain rituals, certain spells that needed to be cast in order to close a void portal, and this was what Karma was now reviewing with a few other elders. Her own study of the matter was minimal. The dangerous magics that tended to cause these holes had mostly been abolished in Ionian, and the rest of the known world, due to the horrendous Rune wars that had left little Runeterra in shambles, and so it shouldn’t have been a concern. Leave it to the Noxians to breach such unspoken rules.

Turning to the elders who were deep in discussion, she asked, “are we ready? I am afraid time is not on our side.”  
Three of the four seemed hesitant, but the fourth, an elderly, deeply wrinkled man with a long beard whiter than snow, nodded. “Yes, or else we’ll be talking ourselves in circles until next season. Let us get into position to begin. Four are needed for the ritual, but we need someone to protect us while we perform, of course. Karma, will you be that person?”

“I have already agreed to such. Let us go.”

Down into the crater they descended, Karma summoning every scrap of power within herself. She had no doubt that she would be needing it here. Each elder took their positions in the cardinal directions, and began to hum as magic electrified the air. Karma watched as the creatures squirming just at the entrance of the void reacted to the energy, at first shying away, but then growing bolder, more curious. The first made the bold jump to completely expose itself and enter the normal plane - and was immediately met with spirit fire as Karma mercilessly blasted it. It fizzled into a black goo that seeped back into the void, as screams arose from its comrades. Whether they were screams of fear or anger, Karma could not tell. They were far too alien. Then the damned creatures surged forward out of the hole. Anger, then.

Repeating the mantras she knew, she kept up her barrage while protecting the otherwise defenceless elders, driving the creatures back with her own energy. It took gargantuan effort to maintain, as the void creatures had their own energy, and she knew she had to be so very careful not to come into contact with it. She had a few close calls - terrifyingly close calls - but managed to keep her spirit to herself, to not let the void touch it. After what felt like an eternity in battle, the sickly purple glow of the void began to shrivel, as the hole finally closed. When the last remaining monster bubbled into a harmless puddle of black goo, she finally gave a relieved sigh as she let her energy retreat back into herself. The world was safe from this portal, though Karma was sure she wouldn’t be sleeping for many months yet. She had escaped the void consuming her, but it did not leave her unscarred.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think Karma's the type to encounter the void and survive. After all, she wouldn't be alive if she weren't smart.


	49. Karthus

Karthus wasn’t sure when or how he had come to a new place. All he remembered was singing for the souls of the dying on a particularly bloody battlefield. The spectre-hunter had been there, with his guns that shot holy light. He remembered one of those flares coming his way, directly at him, but so dedicated to his song, he did not want to put distract himself from it by moving. And the flare of holy light had hit him, and all he remembered was brightness…

Then nothing. And now he was here. Where was here? It was not Runeterra. He could feel that much, he could sense that this place had no magic in it. Floating into the clouds, he wandered, but it did not take him long to find places inhabited with people. And there were so many people! Even the largest cities he’d ever seen on Runeterra, were mere towns and villages compared to the metropolises he encountered. The buildings were crisp and perfectly square, the roads smooth black bands on the ground. Strange technology was everywhere.

But without magic, they were vulnerable. Though he normally collected the souls of the dead and the dying, as he sang, he saw that even the mildly sick quickly came to him, and even the healthy succumbed. It caused widespread panic among the mortals, as they scrambled to find a cure for their death, but Karthus laughed at their pathetic attempts. Without magic, they were blind to him and could do nothing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Karthus wakes up on Earth? Pfft, okay.
> 
> And it appears that I definitely did not finish this in time for NaNoWriMo. Thanks, life. That's okay! I'll still be attempting to finish it. And with more (read: unlimited) time, maybe I can put a little more effort into these... (Here I go again, making NaNo last all year long.)


	50. Kassadin

Kassadin gazed upon the portal. Years, it had been years of work, hard dangerous work. And it was all finally culminating into this moment. His first foray into the void, to rescue his beloved daughter, had nearly ended in disaster, and he had nearly lost his life. But this time, he knew better, and he was prepared. Of course, the Void had slowly taken its toll on his body in the meantime, but he was determined. He would find her! He would save her, even if it was the last thing he ever did.

Now, he stepped up to the void tunnel. It was the one she had disappeared into. Perhaps she would still be near that hole on the other side. Perhaps he wouldn’t have to search too far. Taking a deep breath to steady himself, to calm his nerves, he stepped through it.

“Father? Is that you? I… cannot believe you finally came!”

In the murk and gloom, he thought he could see the figure of his daughter. And her voice… it was definitely her voice, even if he could tell it had changed. She had been waiting for him? Of course, he had tried the first time, and failed. How had she managed to survive so long? He dared not ask the question aloud. Instead, in a cracking, shaking voice, he replied, “yes. I am so glad you are alive! Please, come home. I cannot hold this portal open much longer.”

But as he led her out, he could see in the light of his own world that she was not the same. No, she was not the same. It had all been in vain. She was gone. But he couldn’t take his eyes off of her. Surely his daughter was somewhere inside this… this… monster.

Though he wished it were not so, with all of his breaking, shattering heart, Kassadin knew that the truth was unavoidable. This was not his daughter, this was a monster now. He knew he should slay it before it could take any further step into his world. But how could he slay what used to be his own beloved daughter? How…? With a shaking hand, he unsheathed his blade, tears streaming down his face. She gave him the approximation of a look of sadness. “But father, it is me…”

Voice cracking, he managed to whisper, “I wish you were right. I so wish it were true.” But he couldn’t let this thing continue any further. Even as his heart and his mind screamed for him to stop, as his own mouth gave a cry of despair, he lunged forward, plunging the blade into the twisted creature that was once his daughter. As it melted into a blackened, sizzling pile and fried away under the sun, he sank to his knees as grief overtook him.

He had wanted so badly to have his daughter back. And yet, it was all for nothing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kassadin got what he wanted, only to find that he didn't actually want it. This one practically wrote itself.


	51. Katarina

Katarina had to get out - now. She got her mark, thanks to the now-moving anti-magic statue providing her the distraction she needed. Demacians… of course they would not be used to such phenomenons, so deeply anti-magic as their society was, and the captain had stood there, dumbstruck as he watched the thing stomp around the battlefield.

Problem now was that the giant, nearly indestructible anti-magic moving statue was absolutely slaughtering her side of the battle, and the Demacians’ victory was imminent, and she was still in the middle of them. Not that they knew, yet. Using every piece of training and skill she had, Katarina stealthily moved from hiding place to hiding place, going parallel to the battlefront. She couldn’t return to her own men; there nearly were no more men left for her to return to. Peeking from her current hiding spot, a momentarily empty tower, she glanced at the hillside. Yep, there were definitely no cohesive allied forces left. Whoever wasn’t dead, had already surrendered, or were running. She’d call them cowards, but that wasn’t really fair, for it would be unreasonable to say they could do anything else. It was a rather big statue. She wondered briefly what had happened to Swain. The grand general, so self-assured in his plans, had audaciously been on the front of this field. She could not see him now.

Commotion at the bottom of the stairs of the tower told her it was time to vacate her current hiding spot, so with blades drawn, she perched on the ledge above the doorway, waiting for whoever was coming.

Three men, two soldiers and a lieutenant, walked beneath her, and she quietly hopped down and slunk away behind them. She was sure she could have taken them down, but she didn’t want to risk leaving a trail of blood while she could still make a clean, silent escape. At the bottom of the stairs, she carefully glanced out the doorway to find the next leg of her slow journey. She could hear a cart rattling nearby, and judging by the direction of the sound, it appeared to be moving in the approximate direction she wanted to move in, so she waited for it to pass by the tower entrance, then quickly blink stepped to underneath it, clinging to the frame as it moved.

Unfortunately, its path soon changed to head for a city gate, and Katarina knew she definitely did not want to be trapped inside a fortified Demacian city, so she kept a sharp eye out for new cover. It did not come, and just before the cart passed through the walls of the city, she blink stepped into a crouch behind the guard on the favourable side, hoping his bulk would shield her from the view of the other guard. As the cart rolled past, the guards resumed their position of staring ahead, so she quickly and quietly ran low along the wall, away from them.  
Amongst the din of the army she was leaving behind, she heard a particular shout above the rest, and quickly glancing in its direction, she saw a man some fifty paces away pointing towards her location, with others beginning to follow his line of sight. She bolted. More shouts.

Running as fast as she could, she threw all stealth to the wind - she had already been found, of course, looking for cover, Unfortunately, these grassy plains did not have much in the way of cover, and the men, who had taken the time to get on horses, were easily following her now. Still, she wouldn’t stop running until they would catch up, and they hadn’t yet.

But her luck would stop here - in front of her now was a large, wide river, and as she ran towards it, she could clearly see that she could not blink step to the other side - not safely, anyway. To do so, would require she stay longer in the other place, and she knew that was horrendously dangerous, as it was an alien place filled with hostile monsters. Even in the brief steps she took, if she focused on what was going on around her, she could sometimes make out something lurching at her, trying to catch her.

But the Demacians would catch her now, if she didn’t try. So taking a deep breath, she ran forward, and blinked to the other place, a fraction of a section before a spear could impale her. Instead of taking a half-step that would have only carry her a few long strides forward in her world, she ran through the dark place, taking three long leaps as unimaginably twisted horrors closed in on her. The first portal had already closed behind her, shutting out any light from her world, and she reached to open the one ahead of her, but tripped in the total darkness, as something finally managed to grip her, yanking her far above the ground. She struggled in what felt like giant pinchers, trying to scream in pain in the airless space. Something sharp sank itself into her chest, and death was quick to follow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Touched by the void.
> 
> I have a headcannon that Katarina is blinking through the void, kind of like what the dragons of Pern do. A distance in the void is equal to a greater distance in the normal world.


End file.
